THE   HOUSE   OF 
MARTHA 


BY 


FRANK   R.  STOCKTON 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1912 


Copyright,  1891, 
Bl  FRANK  R.  STOCKTON. 

All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAaB 

I.  My  Grandmother  and  I 1 

II.  Relating  to  my  Year  in  Europe     ...  4 

III.  The  Modern  Use  of  the  Human  Ear        .       ,  10 

IV.  I  obtain  a  Listener 13 

V.  Chester  Walkirk 17 

VI.  My  Under-Study 21 

VII.  My  Book 25 

VIII.  The  Malarial  Adjunct 33 

IX.  Walkirk's  Idea 40 

X.  The  Plan  of  Seclusion 44 

XI.  My  Nun 48 

XII.  EzA 54 

XIII.  My  Friend  Vespa 60 

XIV.  I  FAVOR  Permanency  in  Office        ...  72 

XV.    How   WE  WENT  BACK  TO  GeNOA        .  .  ,  .77 

XVI.  I  run  upon  a  Sandbar 84 

XVII.  Regarding    the    Elucidation    of    National 

Characteristics 90 

XVIII.  An  Illegible  Word 96 

XIX.  Gray  Ice 103 

XX.   TOMASO  AND  I 110 

XXI.    LUCILLA  AND  I 117 

XXII.  I  close  MY  Book 124 

XXIII.  Racket  Island 129 

KXIV.  The  Interpoi^ation 137 


281310 


fV  CONTENTS. 

XXV.  About  Syi-via      ...*...  147 

XXVI.  Mother  Anastasia 153 

XXVII.  A  Person 160 

XXVIII.  The  Floating  Grocery        ....     170 

XXIX.  Fantasy? 185 

XXX.  A  Discovery 192 

XXXI.  Taking  up  Unfinished  Work         .       .       c  199 

XXXII.    TOMASO  AND  LUCILLA 207 

XXXIII.  The  Distant  Topsail 214 

I   ;XXXIV.  The  Central  Hotel 223 

XXXV.  Money  makes  the  Mare  go     ...        .  234 

XXXVI.  In  the  Shade  of  the  Oak    ....      240 

XXXVII.  The  Performance  of  my  Undeb-Study       .  252 

XXXVIII.  A  Broken  Trace     .       .       .       .       .       .261 

XXXIX.  A  Soul  Whisper  ? 271 

XL.  An  Inspiration 276 

XLI.  Miss  Laniston .286 

XLII.  The  Mother  Superior 294 

XLIII.  Was  his  Heart  true  to  Poll  ?      .       .       .  305 

XLIV.  Preliminary  Brotherhood  ....      311 

XLV.  I  MAKE  Coffee  and  get  into  Hot  Water  .  323 

XL VI.  Going  back  for  a  Friend    ....     332 

XLVII.  I  INTEREST  Miss  Laniston        ....  339 

XLVIII.  In  a  Cold,  Bare  Room  .....     346 

XLIX.  My  Own  Way 353 

L.  My  Book  of  Travel 359 

LI.  A  Loose  End 364 

Ln.  I  mnsH  THE  Sicilian  Lovb-Stoby     .       .     370 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 


MY  GRANDMOTHER  AND  I. 

My  grandmother  sat  in  her  own  particular  easy- 
chair  by  the  open  window  of  her  back  parlor.  This 
was  a  pleasant  place  in  which  to  sit  in  the  after- 
noon, for  the  sun  was  then  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house,  and  she  could  look  not  only  over  the  smooth 
grass  of  the  side  yard  and  the  flower  beds,  which 
were  under  her  especial  care,  but  across  the  corner 
of  the  front  lawn  into  the  village  street.  Here, 
between  two  handsome  maple-trees  which  stood 
upon  the  sidewalk,  she  could  see  something  of 
what  was  going  on  in  the  outer  world  without  pre- 
senting the  appearance  of  one  who  is  fond  of 
watching  her  neighbors.  It  was  not  much  that 
she  saw,  for  the  street  was  a  quiet  one  ;  but  a  very 
little  of  that  sort  of  thing  satisfied  her. 

She  was  a  woman  who  was  easily  satisfied.  As 
a  proof  of  this,  I  may  say  that  she  looked  upon  me 
as  a  man  who  always  did  what  was  right.  Indeed, 
I  am  quite  sure  there  were  cases  when  she  saved 
herself  a  good  deal  of  perplexing  cogitation  by 


2  TRE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

assuming  that  a  thing  was  right  because  I  did  it. 
I  was  her  only  grandchild :  my  father  and  mother 
had  died  when  I  was  very  young,  and  I  had  al- 
ways lived  with  her, — that  is,  her  house  had  always 
been  my  home ;  and  as  I  am  sure  there  had  never 
been  any  reason  why  I  should  not  be  a  dutiful  and 
affectionate  grandson,  it  was  not  surprising  that 
she  looked  upon  me  with  a  certain  tender  partial- 
ity, and  that  she  considered  me  worthy  of  all  the 
good  that  she  or  fortune  could  bestow  upon  me. 

My  grandmother  was  nearly  seventy,  but  her 
physical  powers  had  been  excellently  well  pre- 
served; and  as  to  her  mental  vigor,  I  could  see 
no  change  in  it.  Even  when  a  little  boy  I  had 
admired  her  powers  of  sympathetic  consideration, 
by  which  she  divined  the  needs  and  desires  of  her 
fellow-creatures ;  and  now  that  I  had  become  a 
grown  man  I  found  those  powers  as  active  and 
ready  as  they  had  ever  been. 

The  village  in  which  we  lived  contained  a  goodly 
number  of  families  of  high  standing  and  comfort- 
able fortune.  It  was  a  village  of  well-kept  and 
well-shaded  streets,  of  close-cut  grass,  with  no  litter 
on  the  sidewalks.  Our  house  was  one  of  the  best 
in  the  place,  and  since  I  had  come  of  age  I  had 
greatly  improved  it.  I  had  a  fair  inheritance  from 
my  mother,  and  this  my  grandmother  desired  me 
to  expend  without  reference  to  what  I  was  receiv- 
ing and  would  receive  from  her.  To  her  son's  son 
would  come  ultimately  everything  that  she  pos- 
sessed. 

Being  thus  able  to  carry  out  my  ideas  concern- 


MY  GBANDMOTHEB  AND  I.  6 

ing  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  a  bachelor,  I 
had  built  a  wing  to  my  grandmother's  house,  which 
was  occupied  only  by  myself.  It  communicated 
by  several  doors  with  the  main  building,  and  these 
doors  were  nearly  always  open  ;  but  it  was  satisfac- 
tory to  me  to  think  that  if  I  chose  I  might  shut 
and  lock  them,  and  thus  give  my  apartment  the 
advantages  of  a  separate  house.  The  ground  floor 
of  my  establishment  consisted  of  a  large  and  hand- 
some library  and  study,  with  a  good-sized  anteroom 
opening  from  it,  and  above  were  my  sleeping  and 
dressing  rooms.  With  the  exception  of  the  time 
devoted  to  reading,  reflection,  and  repose,  I  lived 
with  my  grandmother. 

Neither  of  us,  however,  confined  ourself  to  this 
village  life.  The  winters  my  grandmother  gener- 
ally spent  with  a  married  sister  in  a  neighboring 
city,  and  I  was  accustomed  to  visit  and  journey 
whenever  it  pleased  me.  Recently  I  had  spent-  a 
year  in  Europe,  and  on  my  return  I  joined  my 
grandmother  for  a  while,  before  going  to  our  vil- 
lage home. 


IL 

RELATING  TO  MY  YEAR  IN  EUROPE. 

I  DO  not  suppose  that  any  one  ever  enjoyed 
travel  and  residence  in  England  and  on  the  Conti- 
nent more  than  I  did ;  but  I  do  not  now  intend  to 
give  any  account  of  my  experiences,  nor  of  the  ef- 
fect they  had  upon  me,  save  in  one  regard.  I  had 
traveled  and  lived  for  the  most  part  alone,  and  one 
of  the  greatest  pleasures  connected  with  my  life  in 
Europe  was  the  anticipation  of  telling  my  friends 
who  had  never  crossed  the  ocean  what  I  had  seen, 
heard,  and  done. 

But  when  I  returned  to  America  I  met  with  a 
great  disappointment :  my  glowing  anticipations 
were  not  realized.  I  could  find  scarcely  any  one 
who  cared  to  know  what  I  had  seen,  heard,  or 
done. 

At  this  I  was  as  much  surprised  as  disappointed. 
I  believed  that  I  possessed  fair  powers  of  descrip- 
tion and  narration,  and  many  of  my  traveling  ex- 
periences were  out  of  the  common.  In  fact,  I  had 
endeavored  to  see  things  the  ordinary  traveler  does 
not  see,  and  to  do  things  which  he  seldom  does.  I 
found,  however,  that  my  unusual  experiences  were 
of  no  advantage  to  me  in  making  people  desirous 
to  hear  accounts  of  my  travels.     I  might  as  well 


RELATING  TO  MY  YEAE  IN  EUROPE,         5 

have  joined  a  party  of  personally  conducted  tour- 
ists. 

My  friends  and  acquaintances  in  town  were  all 
glad  to  see  me,  not  that  they  might  hear  what  had 
happened  to  me,  but  that  they  might  tell  me  what 
had  happened  to  them.  This  disposition  sometimes 
threw  me  into  a  state  of  absolute  amazement.  I 
could  not  comprehend,  for  instance,  why  Mrs. 
Gormer,  who  had  known  me  for  years,  and  who 
I  thought  would  take  such  an  active  interest  in 
everything  that  concerned  me,  should  dismiss  my 
Eurppean  tour  with  a  few  remarks  in  regard  to  my 
health  in  the  countries  I  had  passed  through,  and 
then  begin  an  animated  account  of  the  troubles  she 
had  had  since  I  had  been  away  :  how  the  house  she 
had  been  living  in  had  had  two  feet  of  water  in 
the  cellar  for  weeks  at  a  time,  and  ho\!i*nobody 
could  find  out  whether  it  was  caused  by  a  spring 
in  the  ground  or  4;he  bursting  of  an  unknown 
waier-pipe> — but  no  matter  what  it  was,  they 
could  \i't  stay  there  ;  and  what  a  dreadful  time  they 
had  in  finding  another  house  ;  and  how  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  Jennie's  wedding  coming  directly  in 
the  middle  of  the  moving,  it  had  to  be  postponed, 
for  she  declared  she  would  never  be  married  any- 
where but  at  home ;  and  how  several  of  Mr.  Bar- 
clay's relations  came  down  from  New  Hampshire 
on  purpose  to  be  at  the  wedding,  and  had  to  stay 
either  at  hotels  or  with  friends,  for  it  was  more 
than  a  week  before  her  house  could  be  made  ready 
for  the  wedding.  She  then  remarked  that  of 
course  I  had  heard  of  the  shameful  way  in  which 


6  THE  HOUSE  OF.  MARTHA. 

John  had  been  treated  in  regard  to  that  position 
in  the  Treasury  department  at  Washington ;  and 
as  I  had  not  heard  she  went  on  and  told  me  about 
it,  until  it  was  time  for  me  to  go. 

At  my  club,  some  of  the  men  did  not  know  that 
I  had  been  away,  but  there  were  others  who  were 
very  glad  to  hear  that  I  had  been  in  Europe,  be- 
cause it  gave  them  an  opportunity  to  tell  me  about 
that  very  exciting  election  of  Brubaker,  a  man  of 
whom  I  had  never  heard,  who  had  been  proposed 
by  Shuster,  with  whom  I  was  not  acquainted,  and 
seconded  by  Cushman,  whom  I  did  not  know.  I 
found  no  one  desirous  of  hearing  me  talk  about  my 
travels,  and  those  who  were  willing  to  do  so  were 
satisfied  with  a  very  few  general  points.  Some- 
times I  could  not  but  admire  the  facility  and  skill 
with  which  some  of  the  people  who  stay  at  home 
were  able  to  defend  themselves  against  the  at- 
tempted loquacity  of  the  returned  traveler. 

Occasionally,  in  social  gatherings,  I  met  with 
some  one,  generally  a  lady,  who  did  take  an  inter- 
est in  hearing  that  I  had  been  in  such  or  such  a 
place  ;  but  this  was  always  some  place  in  which  she 
had  been,  and,  after  comparing  experiences,  she 
would  go  on  to  tell  of  things  which  she  had  seen 
and  done,  and  often  ended  by  making  me  feel  very 
sorry  for  having  neglected  my  opportunities. 

"  Yes,"  said  one,  "  it  must  have  been  cold  on  the 
top  of  that  lonely  mountain,  with  nothing  to  warm 
you  but  those  plump  little  wolves,  and  the  constant 
fear  that  their  mother  might  come  back ;  but  you 
ought   to  have   been   here   during   the  blizzard." 


RELATING  TO  MY  YEAR  IN  EUROPE.         7 

And  then  she  went  on  with  a  full  history  of  the 
great  blizzard. 

Everywhere  I  was  met  by  that  blizzard.  Those 
people  who  had  not  moved,  or  who  had  not  had  a 
puzzling  disease  in  the  family,  or  who  had  not  been 
instrumental  in  founding  a  free  kindergarten,  could 
always  fall  back  on  the  blizzard.  I  heard  how 
their  fathers  could  not  get  home  on  the  train,  of 
the  awful  prices  the  people  charged  for  clearing 
away  the  snow,  of  the  way  in  which  Jane  and  Ade- 
laide had  to  get  on  without  music  lessons  for 
nearly  ten  days,  and  of  the  scarcity  of  milk.  No 
one  who  had  seen  and  felt  that  irrepressible  storm 
suffered  from  it  as  I  did.  It  chilled  the  aspira- 
tions of  my  soul,  it  froze  the  unspoken  words  of 
my  mouth,  it  overwhelmed  and  buried  every  ris- 
ing hope  of  speech,  and  smothered  and  sometimes 
nearly  obliterated  my  most  interesting  recollection. 
Many  a  time  I  have  mentally  sent  that  blizzard  to 
regions  where  its  icy  blasts  would  have  melted  as 
in  a  hot  simoom. 

I  truly  believed  that  in  our  village  I  should  find 
sensible  people  who  would  be  glad  to  hear  about 
interesting  things  which  they  never  had  seen. 
Many  of  them  had  not  traveled,  and  a  returned 
tourist  was  a  comparative  rarity  in  the  place.  I 
went  down  there  on  purpose  to  talk  about  EuropCo 
It  was  too  early  for  my  grandmother's  return  to 
the  country.  I  proposed  to  spend  a  week  with  my 
village  friends,  and,  before  their  bright  firesides, 
charm  and  delight  them  with  accounts  of  those 
things  which  had  so  charmed  and  delighted  me. 


8  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

The  lives  of  city  people  are  so  filled  with  every 
sort  of  material  that  it  is  useless  to  try  to  crowd 
anything  more  into  them.  Here,  however,  were 
people  with  excellent  intellects,  whose  craving  for 
mental  pabulum,  especially  in  the  winter,  could  be 
but  partially  satisfied. 

But  bless  me !  I  never  heard  of  such  an  over- 
stock of  mental  pabulum  as  I  found  there.  It  was 
poured  upon  me  by  every  one  with  whom  I  tried  to 
converse.  I  was  frequently  permitted  to  begin 
statements  which  I  believed  must  win  their  way,  if 
they  were  allowed  a  fair  start ;  but  very  soon  some- 
thing I  said  was  sure  to  suggest  something  which 
had  occurred  in  the  village,  and  before  I  could 
brace  myself  the  torrent  would  burst  upon  me. 
Never  did  I  hear,  in  the  same  space  of  time,  so 
much  about  things  which  had  happened  as  I  then 
heard  from  my  village  neighbors.  It  was  not  that 
so  much  had  occurred,  but  that  so  much  was  said 
about  what  had  occurred.  It  was  plain  there  was 
no  hope  for  me  here,  and  after  three  days  I  went 
back  to  town. 

Now  it  was  early  summer,  and  my  grandmother 
and  I  were  again  in  our  dear  home  in  the  village. 
As  I  have  said,  she  was  sitting  by  the  open  window, 
where  she  could  look  out  upon  the  flowers,  the  grass, 
and  a  little  of  the  life  of  her  neighbors.  I  sat  near 
her,  and  had  been  telling  her  of  my  three  days  in 
the  Forest  of  Arden,  and  of  the  veritable  Jaques 
whom  I  met  there,  when  she  remarked  :  — 

"  That  must  have  been  extremely  interesting ; 
and,  speaking  of  the  woods,  I  wish  you  would  say 


RELATING  TO  MY  YEAR  IN  EUROPE.         9 

to  Thomas  that  so  soon  as  he  can  find  time  I  want 
him  to  bring  up  some  of  that  rich  wood-soil  and 
put  it  around  those  geraniums." 

This  was  the  first  time  my  grandmother  had  in- 
terjected any  remark  into  my  recitals.  She  had 
often  asked  me  to  tell  her  about  my  travels,  and 
on  every  other  occasion  she  had  listened  until  she 
softly  fell  asleep.  I  now  remembered  having 
heard  her  say  that  it  interfered  with  her  night's 
rest  to  sleep  in  the  daytime.  Perhaps  her  present 
interruption  was  intended  as  a  gentle  rebuke,  and 
no  other  kind  of  rebuke  had  ever  come  to  me  from 
my  grandmother. 

I  went  out  to  find  Thomas,  oppressed  by  a  mild 
despair.  If  I  were  to  tell  my  tales  to  a  stone,  I 
thought,  it  would  turn  on  me  with  a  sermon. 


III. 

THE  MODEEN   USE   OF  THE  HUMAN  EAR. 

During  my  lonely  walks  and  rides  through  the 
country  about  our  village,  I  began  to  cogitate  and 
philosophize  upon  the  present  social  value  of  the 
human  ear.  Why  do  people  in  society  and  in  do- 
mestic circles  have  ears  ?  I  asked  myseK.  They  do 
not  use  them  to  listen  to  one  another.  And  then  X 
thought  and  pondered  further,  and  suddenly  the 
truth  came  to  me  :  the  ears  of  the  present  genera- 
tion are  not  purveyors  to  the  mind ;  they  are  merely 
agents  of  the  tongue,  who  watch  for  breaks  or 
weak  places  in  the  speech  of  others,  in  order  that 
their  principal  may  rush  in  and  hold  the  field. 
They  are  jackals,  who  scent  out  a  timid  pause  or 
an  unsuspecting  silence  which  the  lion  tongue 
straightway  destroys.  Very  forcibly  the  conviction 
came  to  me  that  nowadays  we  listen  only  for  an 
opportunity  to  speak. 

I  was  grieved  that  true  listening  had  become  a 
lost  art ;  for  without  it  worthy  speech  is  impossible. 
To  good  listening  is  due  a  great  part  of  the  noble 
thought,  the  golden  instruction,  and  the  brilliant 
wit  which  has  elevated,  enlightened,  and  bright- 
ened the  soul  of  man.  There  are  fine  minds  whose 
workings  are  never  expressed  in  writing  ;  and  even 


THE  MODERN  USE  OF  THE  HUMAN  EAR.     11 

among  those  who,  in  print,  spread  their  ideas  be- 
fore the  world  there  is  a  certain  cream  of  thought 
which  is  given  only  to  listeners,  if,  happily,  there 
be  such. 

Modern  conversation  has  degenerated  into  the 
Italian  game  of  moccoletto,  in  which  every  one  en- 
deavors to  blow  out  the  candles  of  the  others,  and 
keep  his  own  alight.  In  such  rude  play  there  is 
no  illumination.  "  There  should  be  a  reform,"  I 
declared.  "  There  should  be  schools  of  listening. 
Here  men  and  women  should  be  taught  how,  with 
sympathetic  and  delicate  art,  to  draw  from  others 
the  useful  and  sometimes  precious  speech  which, 
without  their  skillful  cooperation,  might  never 
know  existence.  To  be  willing  to  receive  in  order 
that  good  may  be  given  should  be  one  of  the  high- 
est aims  of  life. 

"  Not  only  should  we  learn  to  listen  in  order  to 
give  opportunity  for  the  profitable  speech  of  oth- 
ers, but  we  should  do  so  out  of  charity  and  good 
wiU  to  our  fellow-men.  How  many  weary  sick- 
beds, how  many  cheerless  lives,  how  many  lonely, 
depressed,  and  silent  men  and  women,  might  be 
gladdened,  and  for  the  time  transformed,  by  one 
who  would  come,  not  to  speak  words  of  cheer  and 
comfort,  but  to  listen  to  tales  of  suffering  and 
trial !  Here  would  be  one  of  the  truest  forms  of 
charity ;  an  almost  unknown  joy  would  be  given  to 
the  world. 

"  There  should  be  brotherhoods  and  sisterhoods 
of  listeners  ;  like  good  angels,  they  should  go  out 
among  those  unfortunates  who  have  none  to  hear 


12  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

that  which  it  would  give  them  so  much  delight  to 
say." 

But  alas  !  I  knew  of  no  such  good  angels.  Must 
that  which  I  had  to  tell  remain  forever  untold  for 
the  want  of  one  ?  This  could  not  be ;  there  must 
exist  somewhere  a  man  or  a  woman  who  would  be 
willing  to  hear  my  accounts  of  travels  and  expe- 
riences which,  in  an  exceptionable  degree,  were 
interesting  and  valuable. 

I  determined  to  advertise  for  a  listener. 


IV. 

I  OBTAIN  A  LISTENER. 

The  writing  of  my  advertisement  cost  me  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  At  first  I  thought  of  stat- 
ing that  I  desired  a  respectable  and  intelligent 
person,  who  would  devote  a  few  hours  each  day  to 
the  services  of  a  literary  man  ;  but  on  reflection  I 
saw  that  this  would  bring  me  a  vast  number  of 
answers  from  persons  who  were  willing  to  act  as 
secretaries,  proof-readers,  or  anything  of  the  sort, 
and  I  should  have  no  means  of  finding  out  from 
their  letters  whether  they  were  good  listeners  or 
not. 

Therefore  I  determined  to  be  very  straightfor- 
ward and  definite,  and  to  state  plainly  what  it  was 
I  wanted.  The  following  is  the  advertisement 
which  I  caused  to  be  inserted  in  several  of  the  city 
papers :  — 

"  Wanted.  —  A  respectable  and  intelligent  per- 
son, willing  to  devote  several  hours  a  day  to  listen- 
ing to  the  recitals  of  a  traveler.  Address,  stating 
compensation  expected.  Oral." 

I  mentioned  my  purpose  to  no  one,  not  even  to 
my  grandmother,  for  I  should  merely  make  myself 
the  object  of  the  ridicule  of  my  friends,  and  my 
dear  relative's  soul  would  be  filled  with  grief  that 


14  TEtE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

she  had  not  been  considered  competent  to  do  for 
me  so  slight  a  service.  If  I  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing a  listener,  he  could  come  to  me  in  my  library, 
where  no  one  would  know  he  was  not  a  stenogra- 
pher to  whom  I  was  dictating  literary  matter,  or  a 
teacher  of  languages  who  came  to  instruct  me  in 
Arabic. 

I  received  a  dozen  or  more  answers  to  my  ad- 
vertisement, some  of  which  were  very  amusing, 
and  others  very  unsatisfactory.  Not  one  of  the 
writers  understood  what  sort  of  services  I  desired, 
but  all  expressed  their  belief  that  they  were  fully 
competent  to  give  them,  whatever  they  might  be. 

After  a  good  deal  of  correspondence  and  some 
interviewing,  I  selected  at  last  a  person  who  I  be- 
lieved would  prove  himself  a  satisfactory  listener. 
He  was  an  elderly  man,  of  genteel  appearance, 
and  apparently  of  a  quiet  and  accommodating  dis- 
position. He  assured  me  that  he  had  once  been  a 
merchant,  engaged  in  the  importation  of  gunny- 
bags,  and,  having  failed  in  business,  had  since  de- 
pended on  the  occasional  assistance  given  him  by 
a  widowed  daughter-in-law.  This  man  I  engaged, 
and  arranged  that  he  should  lodge  at  the  village 
inn,  and  come  to  me  every  evening. 

I  was  truly  delighted  that  so  far  I  had  succeeded 
in  my  plan.  Now,  instead  of  depending  upon  the 
whims,  fancies,  or  occasional  good-natured  compli- 
ance of  any  one,  I  was  master  of  the  situation. 
My  listener  was  paid  to  listen  to  me,  and  listen  to 
me  he  must.  If  he  did  not  do  so  intelligently,  he 
should  be  dismissed.    "It  would  be  difficult  to  ex- 


I  OBTAIN  A  LISTENER.  15 

press  fully  the  delight  given  me  by  my  new  pos- 
session, —  the  ownership  of  attention. 

Every  evening  my  listener  came ;  and  during  a 
great  part  of  every  day  I  thought  of  what  I  should 
say  to  him  when  he  should  come.  I  talked  to  him 
with  a  feeling  of  freedom  and  absolute  indepen* 
dence  which  thrilled  me  like  champagne.  What 
mattered  it  whether  my  speech  interested  him  or 
not  ?  He  was  paid  to  listen,  without  regard  to  in- 
terest; more  than  that,  he  was  paid  to  show  an 
interest,  whether  he  felt  it  or  not.  Whether  I 
bored  him  or  delighted  him,  it  made  no  difference ; 
in  fact,  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  me  occasionally 
to  feel  that  I  did  bore  him.  To  have  the  full  op- 
portunity and  the  perfect  right  to  bore  a  fellow- 
being  is  a  privilege  not  lightly  to  be  prized,  and 
an  added  zest  is  given  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
borer  by  the  knowledge  that  the  bored  one  is 
bound  to  make  it  appear  that  he  is  not  bored. 

In  an  easy-chair  opposite  to  me  my  listener  sat 
and  listened  for  two  hours  every  evening.  I  in- 
terested myself  by  watching  and  attempting  to 
analyze  the  expressions  on  his  face,  but  what  these 
appeared  to  indicate  made  no  difference  in  my  re- 
marks. I  do  not  think  he  liked  repetitions,  but  if 
I  chose  to  tell  a  thing  several  times,  I  did  so.  He 
had  no  right  to  tell  me  that  he  had  heard  that 
before.  Immunity  from  this  remark  was  to  me  a 
rare  enjoyment. 

I  made  it  a  point  to  talk  as  well  as  I  could,  for 
I  like  to  hear  myself  talk  well,  but  I  paid  no  at- 
tention   to  the  likings  of  my   listener.     Later    I 


16  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

should  probably  do  this,  but  at  present  it  was  a 
joy  to  trample  upon  the  likings  of  others.  My 
own  likings  in  this  respect  had  been  so  often 
trampled  upon  that  I  would  not  now  deny  myseK 
the  exercise  of  the  right  — bought  and  paid  for  — 
to  take  this  sweet  revenge. 

On  the  evenings  of  nine  week-days  and  one  Sun- 
day, when  I  confined  myself  entirely  to  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  short  visit  to  Palestine,  I  talked  and  my 
listener  listened.  About  the  middle  of  the  evening 
of  the  tenth  week-day,  when  I  was  engaged  in  the 
expression  of  some  fancies  evoked  by  the  recollec- 
tion of  a  stroll  through  the  Egyptian  department 
of  the  Louvre,  I  looked  at  my  listener,  and  beheld 
him  asleep. 

As  I  stopped  speaking  he  awoke  with  a  start, 
and  attempted  to  excuse  himself  by  stating  that  he 
had  omitted  to  take  coffee  with  his  evening  meal. 
I  made  no  answer,  but,  opening  my  pocket-book, 
paid  and  discharged  him. 


V. 

CHESTER  WALKIRK. 

It  is  not  my  custom  to  be  discouraged  by  a  first 
failure.  I  looked  over  the  letters  which  had  been 
sent  to  me  in  answer  to  my  advertisement,  and 
wrote  to  another  of  the  applicants,  who  very 
promptly  came  to  see  me. 

The  appearance  of  this  man  somewhat  discour- 
aged me.  My  first  thought  concerning  him  was 
that  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  so  thoroughly  alive 
was  not  likely  to  prove  a  good  listener.  But  after 
I  had  had  a  talk  with  him  I  determined  to  give 
him  a  trial.  Of  one  thing  I  was  satisfied:  he 
would  keep  awake.  He  was  a  man  of  cheerful 
aspect;  alert  in  motion,  glance,  and  speech.  His 
age  was  about  forty ;  he  was  of  medium  size,  a 
little  inclined  to  be  stout,  and  his  face,  upon  which 
he  wore  no  hair,  was  somewhat  ruddy.  In  dress 
he  was  neat  and  proper,  and  he  had  an  air  of 
friendly  deference,  which  seemed  to  me  to  suit  the 
position  I  wished  him  to  fill. 

He  spoke  of  himseK  and  his  qualifications  with 
tact,  if  not  with  modesty,  and  rated  very  highly  his 
ability  to  serve  me  as  a  listener ;  but  he  did  so  in 
a  manner  intended  to  convince  me  that  he  was  not 
boasting,  but  stating  facts  which  it  was  necessary 


18  TSE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA, 

I  should  know.  His  experience  had  been  varied : 
he  had  acted  as  a  tutor,  a  traveling  companion,  a 
confidential  clerk,  a  collector  of  information  for 
technical  writers,  and  in  other  capacities  requiring 
facility  of  adaptation  to  exigencies.  At  present 
he  was  engaged  in  making  a  catalogue  for  a  col- 
lector of  prints,  whose  treasures,  in  the  course  of 
years,  had  increased  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  remember  what  his  long 
rows  of  portfolios  contained.  The  collector  was 
not  willing  that  work  among  his  engravings  should 
be  done  by  artificial  light,  and,  as  the  evenings  of 
my  visitor  were  therefore  disengaged,  he  said  he 
should  be  glad  to  occupy  them  in  a  manner  which 
would  not  only  be  profitable  to  him,  but,  he  was 
quite  sure,  would  be  very  interesting. 

The  man's  name  was  Chester  Walkirk,  and  I 
engaged  him  to  come  to  me  every  evening,  as  my 
first  listener  had  done. 

I  began  my  discourses  with  Walkirk  with  much 
less  confidence  and  pleasurable  anticipation  than 
I  had  felt  with  regard  to  the  quiet,  unassuming 
elderly  person  who  had  been  my  first  listener,  and 
whom  I  had  supposed  to  be  a  very  model  of  recep- 
tivity. The  new  man  I  feared  would  demand 
more,  —  if  not  by  word,  at  least  by  manner.  He 
would  be  more  like  an  audience ;  I  should  find  my- 
self striving  to  please  him,  and  I  could  not  feel 
careless  whether  he  liked  what  I  said  or  not. 

But  by  the  middle  of  the  first  evening  all  my 
fears  and  doubts  in  regard  to  Walkirk  had  disap- 
peared.    He  proved  to  be  an  exceptionally  good 


CHESTER   WALKIBK.  19 

listener.  As  I  spoke,  he  heard  me  with  attention 
and  evident  interest ;  and  this  he  showed  by  occa- 
sional remarks,  which  he  took  care  should  never 
be  interruptions.  These  interpolations  were  man- 
aged with  much  tact ;  sometimes  they  were  in  the 
form  of  questions,  which  reminded  me  of  some- 
thing I  had  intended  to  say,  but  had  omitted, 
which  led  me  to  speak  further  upon  the  subject, 
perhaps  on  some  other  phase  of  it.  Now  and  then, 
by  the  expression  on  his  countenance,  or  by  a  word 
or  two,  he  showed  interest,  gratification,  astonish- 
ment, or  some  other  appropriate  sentiment. 

When  I  stopped  speaking,  he  would  sit  quietly 
and  muse  upon  what  I  had  been  saying ;  or,  if  he 
thought  me  not  too  deeply  absorbed  in  reflection, 
would  ask  a  question,  or  say  something  relative  to 
the  subject  in  hand,  which  would  give  me  the  op- 
portunity of  making  some  remarks  which  it  grati- 
fied me  to  know  that  he  wanted  to  hear. 

I  could  not  help  feeling  that  I  talked  better  to 
Walkirk  than  I  had  ever  done  to  any  one  else; 
and  I  did  not  hesitate  to  admit  to  myself  that  this 
gratifying  result  was  due  in  great  part  to  his 
ability  as  a  listener.  I  do  not  say  that  he  drew 
me  out,  but  he  gave  me  opportunities  to  show  my- 
self in  the  broadest  and  best  lights.  This  truly 
might  be  said  to  be  good  listening ;  it  produced 
good  speech. 

Day  after  day  I  became  better  and  better  satis- 
fied with  Chester  Walkirk,  and  it  is  seldom  that 
I  have  enjoyed  myself  more  than  in  talking  to  him. 
I  am  sure  that  it  gave  me  more  actual  pleasure  to 


20  TBE  BOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

tell  him  what  I  had  seen  and  what  I  had  done  than 
I  had  felt  in  seeing  and  doing  those  things.  This 
may  appear  odd,  but  it  is  a  fact.  I  readily  re- 
vived in  myself  the  emotions  that  accompanied  my 
experiences,  and  to  these  recalled  emotions  was 
added  the  sympathetic  interest  of  another. 

In  other  ways  Walkirk  won  my  favor.  He  was 
good-natured  and  intelligent,  and  showed  that  he 
was  anxious  to  please  me  not  only  as  a  listener,  but 
as  a  companion,  or,  I  might  better  say,  as  an  asso- 
ciate inmate  of  my  study.  What  he  did  not  know 
in  this  respect  he  set  himself  diligently  to  learn. 


VI. 

MY  UNDER-STUDT. 

In  talking  about  my  travels  to  Chester  Walkirk, 
I  continued  for  a  time  to  treat  the  subject  in  the 
same  desultory  manner  in  which  I  had  related  my 
experiences  to  my  first  listener ;  but  the  superior 
intelligence,  and  I  may  say  the  superior  attention, 
of  Walkirk  acted  upon  me  as  a  restraint  as  well 
as  an  incentive.  I  made  my  descriptions  as 
graphic  and  my  statements  as  accurate  as  I  could, 
and,  stimulated  by  his  occasional  questions  and 
remarks,  I  began  to  discourse  systematically  and 
with  a  well-considered  plan.  I  went  from  country 
to  country  in  the  order  in  which  I  had  traveled 
through  them,  and  placed  my  reflections  on  social, 
political,  or  artistic  points  where  they  naturally 
belonged. 

It  was  plain  to  see  that  Walkirk's  interest  and 
pleasure  increased  when  my  rambling  narrations 
resolved  themselves  into  a  series  of  evening  lec- 
tures upon  Great  Britain,  the  Continent,  and  the 
north  coast  of  Africa,  and  his  pleasure  was  a  de- 
cided gratification  to  me.  If  his  engagements  and 
mine  had  permitted,  I  should  have  been  glad  to 
talk  to  him  at  other  times,  as  well  as  in  the  even- 
ing. 


22  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

After  a  month  or  more  of  this  agreeable  occu- 
pation, the  fact  began  to  impress  itself  upon  me 
that  I  was  devoting  too  much  time  to  the  pleasure 
of  being  listened  to.  My  grandmother  gently 
complained  that  the  time  I  gave  to  her  after  din- 
ner appeared  to  be  growing  less  and  less,  and  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  correspondence  and  other  busi- 
ness I  was  in  the  habit  of  attending  to  in  the  even- 
ing which  now  was  neglected,  or  done  in  the  day- 
time, when  I  should  have  been  doing  other  things. 

I  was  not  a  mati  of  leisure.  My  grandmother 
owned  a  farm  about  a  mile  from  our  village,  and 
over  the  management  of  this  I  exercised  a  super- 
vision. I  was  erecting  some  houses  on  land  of  my 
own  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  and  for  this 
reason,  as  well  as  others,  it  frequently  was  neces- 
sary for  me  to  go  to  the  city  on  business  errands. 
Besides  all  this,  social  duties  had  a  claim  on  me, 
summer  and  winter. 

I  had  gradually  formed  the  habit  of  talking  with 
Walkirk  on  other  subjects  than  my  travels,  and 
one  evening  I  mentioned  to  him  some  of  the  em- 
barrassments and  annoyances  to  which  I  had  been 
subjected  during  the  day,  on  account  of  the  varied 
character  of  my  affairs.  Walkirk  sat  for  a  minute 
or  two,  his  chin  in  his  hand,  gazing  steadfastly 
upon  the  carpet ;  then  he  spoke :  — 

"  Mr.  Vanderley,  what  you  say  suggests  some- 
thing which  I  have  been  thinking  of  saying  to  you. 
I  have  now  finished  the  catalogue  of  prints,  on 
which  I  was  engaged  when  I  entered  your  service 
as  a  listener ;  and  my  days,  therefore,  being  at  my 


MY  UNDERSTUDY.  23 

disposal,  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  put 
them  at  yours." 

"  In  what  capacity  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  In  that  of  an  under-study,"  said  he. 

I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  know  what  he 
•meant. 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  that,"  said  he,  with  a  smile, 
"but  I  will  explain.  In  theatrical  circles  each 
principal  performer  is  furnished  with  what  is 
termed  in  the  profession  an  under-study.  This  is 
an  actor,  male  or  female,  as  the  case  may  be,  who 
studies  the  part  of  the  performer,  and  is  capable 
of  going  through  with  it,  with  more  or  less  ability, 
in  case  the  regular  actor,  from  sickness  or  any 
other  cause,  is  prevented  from  appearing  in  his 
part.  In  this  way  the  manager  provides  against 
emergencies  which  might  at  any  time  stop  his  play 
and  ruin  his  business.  Now,  I  should  like  very 
much  to  be  your  under-study,  and  I  think  in  this 
capacity  I  could  be  of  great  service  to  you." 

I  made  no  answer,  but  I  am  sure  my  counte- 
nance expressed  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  mean,"  he  continued,  "  to  propose 
that  I  shall  act  as  your  agent  in  the  various  forms 
of  business  which  press  upon  you,  but  I  suggest 
that  you  allow  me  to  do  for  you  exactly  what  the 
under-study  does  for  the  actor ;  that  is,  that  you 
let  me  take  your  place  when  it  is  inconvenient  or 
impossible  for  you  to  take  it  yourself." 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  I,  "  that,  in  the  manage- 
ment of  my  affairs,  it  would  be  very  seldom  that 
you  or  any  one  else  could  take  my  place." 


24  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Walkirk,  "  under  present  cir- 
cumstances that  would  be  impossible ;  but  suppose, 
for  instance,  you  take  me  with  you  to  those  houses 
you  are  building,  that  you  show  me  what  has  been 
done  and  what  you  intend  to  do,  and  that  you  let 
me  make  myself  familiar  with  the  whole  plan  and 
manner  of  the  work.  This  would  be  easy  for  me, 
for  I  have  superintended  house-building;  and  al- 
though I  am  neither  a  plumber,  a  mason,  a  carpen- 
ter, a  paper-hanger,  or  a  painter,  I  know  how  such 
people  should  do  their  work.  Therefore,  if  you 
should  be  unable  to  attend  to  the  matter  yourself, 
—  and  in  such  case  only,  —  I  could  go  and  see 
how  the  work  was  progressing ;  and  this  I  could 
do  with  regard  to  your  farm,  or  any  other  of  your 
business  with  the  details  of  which  you  should  care 
to  have  me  make  myself  familiar,  —  always  re- 
membering that  I  should  not  act  as  your  regular 
agent  in  any  one  of  these  affairs,  but  as  one  who, 
when  it  is  desirable,  temporarily  takes  your  place. 
I  think,  Mr.  Vanderley,  that  it  would  be  of  advan- 
tage to  you  to  consider  my  proposition." 

I  did  consider  it,  and  the  next  evening  I  en- 
gaged Chester  Walkirk  as  an  under-study. 


vn. 

MY  BOOK. 

In  order  to  be  at  hand  when  I  might  need  him, 
"Walkirk  took  up  his  residence  at  the  village 
tavern,  or,  as  some  of  us  were  pleased  to  call  it, 
the  inn.  To  make  him  available  when  occasion 
should  require,  I  took  him  with  me  to  the  scene  of 
my  building  operations  and  to  my  grandmother's 
farm,  and  he  there  showed  the  same  intelligent  in- 
terest that  he  gave  to  my  evening  recitals.  I  had 
no  difficulty  in  finding  occupation  for  my  under- 
study, and,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  he  attended  to 
the  business  I  placed  in  his  hands  as  well  as  I 
could  have  done  it  myself;  indeed,  in  some  in- 
stances, he  did  it  better,  for  he  gave  it  more  time 
and  careful  consideration. 

In  this  business  of  supplying  my  place  in  emer- 
gencies, Walkirk  showed  so  much  ability  in  pro- 
moting my  interests  that  I  became  greatly  pleased 
with  the  arrangement  I  had  made  with  him.  It 
was  somewhat  surprising  to  me,  and  I  think  to 
Walkirk,  that  so  many  cases  arose  in  which  I  found 
it  desirable  that  he  should  take  my  place.  I  was 
going  to  look  at  a  horse  :  some  visitors  arrived  ;  I 
sent  Walkirk.  There  was  a  meeting  of  a  scientific 
society  which  I  wished  very  much  to  attend,  but  I 


26  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

could  not  do  that  and  go  to  a  dinner  party  to  which 
I  had  been  invited  on  the  same  evening  ;  Walkirk 
went  to  the  meeting,  took  notes,  and  the  next  day- 
gave  me  a  full  report  in  regard  to  some  particular 
points  in  which  I  was  interested,  and  which  were 
not  mentioned  in  the  short  newspaper  notice  of  the 
meeting. 

In  other  cases,  of  which  at  first  I  could  not  have 
imagined  the  possibility,  my  under-study  was  of 
use  to  me.  I  was  invited  to  address  my  fellow 
townsmen  and  townswomen  on  the  occasion  of  the 
centennial  anniversary  of  the  settlement  of  our  vil- 
lage, and  as  I  had  discovered  that  Walkirk  was  a 
good  reader  I  took  him  with  me,  in  order  that  he 
might  deliver  my  written  address  in  case  my  cour- 
age should  give  out.  My  courage  did  not  give 
out,  but  I  am  very  sure  that  I  was  greatly  sup- 
ported and  emboldened  by  the  knowledge  that  if, 
at  the  last  moment,  my  embarrassment  should  not 
allow  me  to  begin  my  address,  or  if  in  the  course 
of  its  delivery  I  should  feel  unable,  for  any  reason, 
to  go  on  with  it,  there  was  some  one  present  who 
would  read  it  for  me. " 

It  had  long  been  my  habit  to  attend  with  my 
grandmother,  bi-monthly,  an  early  evening  whist 
party  at  the  house  of  an  elderly  neighbor.  I  had 
a  bad  headache  on  one  of  these  appointed  even- 
ings, and  Walkirk,  who  was  a  perfectly  respectable 
and  presentable  man,  went  with  my  grandmother 
in  my  stead.  I  afterward  heard  that  he  played  an 
excellent  hand  at  whist,  a  remark  which  had  never 
been  made  of  me. 


MY  BOOK.  27 

But  I  will  not  refer  at  present  to  any  further 
instances  of  the  usefulness  of  my  under-study,  ex- 
cept to  say  that,  as  I  found  his  feet  were  of  the 
same  size  and  shape  as  my  own,  I  sent  him  to  be 
measured  for  a  pair  of  heavy  walking-shoes  which 
I  needed ;  and  I  once  arranged  for  him  to  serve 
in  my  place  on  a  coroner's  jury,  in  the  case  of  a 
drowned  infant. 

The  evening  listenings  still  went  on,  and  as  the 
scope  of  my  remarks  grew  wider,  and  their  pur- 
pose became  better  defined,  it  began  to  dawn  upon 
me  that  it  was  selfish  to  devote  these  accounts  of 
remarkable  traveling  experiences  to  the  pleasure 
of  only  two  men,  myself  and  my  listener ;  the 
public  would  be  interested  in  these  things.  I 
ought  to  write  a  book. 

This  idea  pleased  me  very  much.  As  "Walkirk 
was  now  able  to  take  my  place  in  so  many  ways,  I 
could  give  a  good  deal  of  time  each  day  to  compo- 
sition ;  and,  moreover,  there  was  no  reason  why 
such  work  should  interfere  with  my  pleasure  in 
being  listened  to.  I  could  write  by  day,  and  talk 
at  night.  It  would  be  all  the  better  for  my  book 
that  I  should  first  orally  deliver  the  matter  to 
Walkirk,  and  afterward  write  it.  I  broached  this 
idea  to  Walkirk ;  but,  while  he  did  not  say  so  iu 
words,  it  was  plain  to  me  he  did  not  regard  it  with 
favor.     He  reflected  a  little  before  speaking. 

"  The  writing  of  a  book,"  he  said,  "  is  a  very 
serious  thing  ;  and  although  it  is  not  my  province 
to  advise  you,  I  will  say  that  if  I  were  in  your 
place  I  should  hesitate  a  good  while  before  com- 


28  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

mencing  a  labor  like  that.  I  have  no  doubt,  judg- 
ing from  what  I  have  already  heard  of  your  trav- 
els, that  you  would  make  a  most  useful  and  enjoy- 
able book,  but  the  question  in  my  mind  is,  whether 
the  pleasure  you  would  give  your  readers  would 
repay  you  for  the  time  and  labor  you  would  put 
upon  this  work." 

This  was  the  first  time  that  Walkirk  had  offered 
me  advice.  I  had  no  idea  of  taking  it,  but  I  did 
not  resent  it. 

"  I  do  not  look  at  the  matter  in  that  way,"  I 
said.  "  An  absorbing  labor  wiU  be  good  for  me. 
My  undertaking  may  result  in  overworking  you, 
for  you  will  be  obliged  to  act  as  my  under-study 
even  more  frequently  than  you  do  now." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  afraid  of  work,"  said  he ;  "I 
can  stand  any  amount  of  it.  But  how  about  the 
evening  discourses,  —  will  they  come  to  an  end  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  I ;  "  I  shall  go  on  giving  you 
an  account  of  my  travels,  just  as  before.  This 
will  help  me  to  judge  better  what  to  put  in  and 
what  to  leave  out." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  he  said,  with 
animation  ;  "  I  do  not  hesitate  to  own  to  you  that 
I  should  very  greatly  regret  to  lose  those  most  in- 
teresting accounts  of  your  experiences." 

This  was  very  complimentary,  but,  as  he  was 
paid  to  listen,  the  remark  did  not  possess  the  force 
it  would  have  had,  had  he  paid  to  hear  me. 

Enthusiastically  I  went  to  work  upon  my  book, 
and  I  found  that  talking  about  my  travels  to  Wal- 
kirk helped  me  to  write  about  them  for  the  public. 


MY  BOOK.  29 

But  a  week  had  not  passed  when  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  writing  was  in  no  way  so  pleasant 
as  talking.  I  disliked  labor  with  the  pen ;  I  dis- 
liked long  sitting  at  my  desk.  The  composition  of 
the  matter  was  enough  for  me;  some  one  else 
should  put  it  on  paper.  I  must  have  a  secretary. 
I  went  immediately  to  Walkirk,  who  was  at  the 
inn,  working  upon  some  of  my  accounts. 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  I  can  get  somebody  else 
to  do  that  sort  of  thing.  I  want  you  to  act  as  my 
amanuensis." 

To  my  surprise  his  face  clouded.  He  seemed 
troubled,  even  pained. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  he  said,  "  to  decline 
any  work  which  you  may  desire  me  to  do,  but  I 
really  must  decline  this.  I  cannot  write  from  dic- 
tation. I  cannot  be  your  amanuensis.  Although 
it  may  seem  like  boasting,  this  is  one  of  the  few 
things  I  cannot  do :  my  nervous  temperament,  my 
disposition,  in  fact  my  very  nature,  stand  in  the 
way,  and  make  the  thing  impossible." 

I  could  not  understand  Walkirk's  objections  to 
this  sort  of  work,  for  he  was  a  ready  writer,  a  good 
stenographer,  and  had  shown  himself  perfectly 
willing  and  able  to  perform  duties  much  more  dif- 
ficult and  distasteful  than  I  imagined  this  possibly 
could  be.  But  there  are  many  things  I  do  not 
understand,  and  which  I  consider  it  a  waste  of  time 
to  try  to  understand ;  and  this  was  one  of  them. 

"  Then  I  must  get  some  one  else,"  said  I. 

"  If  you  decide  to  do  that,"  said  Walkirk,  "  I 
will  attend  to  the  matter  for  you,  and  you  need 


30  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

trouble  yourself  no  further  about  it.  I  will  go  to 
the  city,  or  wherever  it  is  necessary  to  go,  and  get 
you  an  amanuensis." 

"  Do  so,"  said  I,  "  but  come  and  report  to  me 
before  you  make  any  engagement." 

The  next  day  Walkirk  made  his  report.  He 
had  not  been  as  successful  as  he  had  hoped  to  be. 
If  I  had  been  doing  my  work  in  the  city,  he  could 
have  found  me  stenographers,  amanuenses,  or  type- 
writers by  the  hundred.  By  living  and  working 
in  the  country,  I  >  made  his  task  much  more  diffi- 
cult. He  had  found  but  few  persons  who  were 
Mrilling  to  come  to  me  every  day,  no  matter  what 
the  weather,  and  only  one  or  two  who  would  con- 
sent to  come  to  our  village  to  live. 

But  he  had  made  a  list  of  several  applicants 
who  might  suit  me,  and  who  were  willing  to  accept 
one  or  the  other  of  the  necessary  conditions. 

"  They  are  all  women !  "  I  exclaimed,  when  I 
looked  at  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  he ;  "  it  would  be  very  difficult, 
perhaps  impossible,  to  find  a  competent  man  who 
would  answer  your  purpose.  The  good  ones  could 
not  afford  to  give  you  part  of  their  time,  which  is 
all  you  require,  and  you  would  not  want  any  other. 
With  women  the  case  is  different ;  and  besides,  I 
am  sure,  from  my  own  experience,  that  a  lady 
amanuensis  would  suit  your  purpose  much  better 
than  a  man:  she  would  be  more  patient,  more 
willing  to  accommodate  herself  to  your  moods,  in 
every  way  more  available." 

I  had  not  engaged  Walkirk  to  be  mv  under- 


MY  BOOK.  31 

study  ia  matters  of  judgment,  and  I  did  not  intend 
that  he  should  act  in  that  capacity ;  but  there  was 
force  in  his  remarks,  and  I  determined  to  give 
them  due  consideration.  Although  I  had  apart- 
ments of  my  own,  I  really  lived  in  my  grand- 
mother's house;  and  of  course  it  was  incumbent 
upon  me  to  consult  her  upon  this  subject.  She 
looked  at  the  matter  in  her  usual  kindly  way,  and 
soon  came  to  be  of  the  opinion  that,  if  I  could  give 
a  worthy  and  industrious  young  woman  an  oppor- 
tunity to  earn  her  livelihood,  I  ought  to  do  it; 
taking  care,  of  course,  to  engage  no  one  who  could 
not  furnish  the  very  best  references. 

I  now  put  the  matter  again  into  Walkirk's 
hands,  and  told  him  to  produce  the  persons  he  had 
selected.  He  managed  the  matter  with  great  skill, 
and  in  the  course  of  one  morning  four  ladies  called 
npon  me,  in  such  a  way  that  they  did  not  interfere 
with  each  other.  Of  these  applicants  none  pleased 
me.  One  of  them  was  a  dark-haired,  dark-eyed, 
rather  spare  person,  whose  youthful  energies  had 
been  so  improved  by  years  that  I  was  sure  her 
briskness  of  action,  her  promptness  of  speech,  and 
her  evident  anxiety  to  get  to  work  and  to  keep  at 
it  would  eventually  drive  me  crazy. 

Another  was  a  skilled  stenographer,  who  could 
write  I  forget  how  many  hundred  words  a  minute ; 
and  when  I  told  her  there  were  no  minutes  in 
which  I  could  dictate  as  many  words  as  that,  even 
if  I  wanted  to,  and  that  there  would  be  many  min- 
utes in  which  I  should  not  dictate  any  words  at  all, 
she  said  she  was  afraid  that  if  she  fell  into  a  diUy- 


32  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

dally,  poky  way  of  working  it  would  impair  her 
skill,  and  it  might  be  difficult,  when  she  left  my 
employment,  to  regain  her  previous  expertness. 
She  was  quite  willing,  however,  to  engage  with 
me,  and  thought  that  if  I  would  try  to  dictate  as 
fast  as  possible  I  might,  in  time,  be  able  to  keep 
her  nearly  up  to  her  normal  standard. 

A  third  one  was  willing  to  write  longhand,  and 
to  work  as  slowly  and  as  irregularly  as  I  pleased. 
I  gave  her  a  short  trial,  but  her  writing  was  so 
illegible  that  I  could  not  discover  whether  or  not 
she  made  mistakes  in  spelling.  I  had,  however, 
my  suspicions  on  this  point. 

The  fourth  applicant  I  engaged  to  come  for  a 
week  on  trial.  She  exhibited  no  prominent  disa- 
bilities, and  I  thought  she  might  be  made  to  an- 
swer my  purpose ;  but  as  she  possessed  no  promi- 
nent capabilities,  and  as  she  asked  me  to  repeat 
almost  every  sentence  which  I  dictated  to  her,  I 
found  it  very  tiresome  to  work  with  her,  and  1 
punished  Walkirk  by  making  him  act  as  my  under- 
study on  the  third  and  fourth  days  of  her  engage- 
ment. I  requested  him  to  dictate  to  her  some  de- 
tailed incidents  of  travel  which  I  had  told  him, 
and  which  I  was  sure  he  remembered  very  well. 
He  undertook  the  task  with  alacrity,  but  after  two 
mornings*  work  he  advised  me  to  discharge  her. 
Dictating  to  her,  he  said,  was  like  talking  into  a 
tin  spout  with  nobody  at  the  other  end.  Some- 
body might  come  if  you  shouted  long  enough,  but 
this  was  tiresome. 


VIII. 

THE  MALARIAL  ADJUNCT. 

The  fifth  applicant  on  Walkirk's  list  had  a 
morning  to  herself.  So  soon  as  she  entered  my 
study  I  hoped  that  she  would  suit  me,  and  I  had 
not  talked  with  her  ten  minutes  before  I  decided 
that  she  would.  Her  personality  was  exceedingly 
agreeable ;  she  was  neither  too  young  nor  too  old. 
She  expressed  herself  with  a  good-humored  frank- 
ness which  I  liked,  and  appeared  to  be  of  a  very 
practical  turn  of  mind.  She  was  a  practiced  sten- 
ographer, was  accustomed  to  write  from  dictation 
and  to  read  aloud,  could  correct  proof,  and  had 
some  admirable  references.  Her  abilities  appeared 
so  excellent,  and  her  demeanor  was  so  agreeable 
to  me,  that  I  engaged  her. 

"  I  am  very  happy  indeed,  Mr.  Vanderley,"  she 
said,  with  the  pretty  dimpled  smile  which  had  so 
frequently  shown  itself  in  the  course  of  our  con- 
versation, "  that  you  have  given  me  this  position. 
I  am  sure  that  I  shall  like  it,  and  I  shall  try  very 
hard  to  make  my  work  satisfactory.  I  shall  come 
up  every  morning  in  the  nine  o'clock  train,  as  you 
desire ;  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to  bring  my  hus- 
band with  me,  but  this  will  not  in  any  way  inter- 
fere with  my  work.     He  is  suffering  from  a  ma- 


34  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

larial  disease,  and  is  subject  to  periods  of  faint- 
ness,  so  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  leave 
him  for  the  whole  morning ;  but  he  can  sit  outside 
anywhere,  under  a  tree,  or  perhaps  somewhere  in 
the  house  if  it  happens  to  rain.  He  is  perfectly- 
contented  if  he  has  a  comfortable  place  to  sit  in. 
He  is  not  able  to  attend  to  any  business,  and  as  I 
now  have  to  be  the  bread-winner  I  am  most  deeply 
grateful  for  this  work  which  you  have  given  me. 
I  am  sure  that  the  little  trip  in  and  out  of  town 
will  do  him  good,  and  as  I  shall  buy  commutation 
tickets  it  will  not  be  expensive.  He  came  with 
me  this  morning,  and  if  you  will  excuse  me  I  will 
bring  him  in  and  introduce  him."  And  without 
waiting  for  any  remark  from  me  she  left  the  room, 
and  shortly  returned  with  the  malarial  subject. 
He  was  an  extremely  mild-mannered  man,  of  light 
weight  and  sedate  aspect.  The  few  words  in  which 
he  indicated  his  gratification  with  his  wife's  en- 
gagement suggested  to  me  the  need  of  sulphate  of 
quinia. 

This  revelation  of  a  malarial  adjunct  to  the  la- 
bors of  myself  and  this  very  agreeable  lady  greatly 
surprised  me,  and,  I  must  admit,  threw  me  back 
from  that  condition  of  satisfaction  in  which  I  had 
Jound  myself  upon  engaging  her ;  and  yet  I  could 
^hink  of  no  reasonable  objection  to  make.  The 
lady  had  promised  that  he  should  not  be  in  the 
way,  and  the  most  I  could  say,  even  to  myself,  was 
that  the  arrangement  did  not  appear  attractive  to 
me.  Of  course,  with  no  reason  but  a  chaotic  dis- 
taste, I  would  not  recede  from  my  agreement,  and 


THE  MALARIAL  ADJUNCT.  35 

deprive  this  worthy  lady  of  the  opportunity  of 
supporting  herself  and  her  husband ;  and  the  two 
departed,  to  return  on  the  following  day  prepared 
to  labor  and  to  wait. 

I  inquired  of  Walkirk,  I  fear  with  some  petu- 
lance, if  he  had  known  of  the  incumbrance  at- 
tached to  this  candidate ;  and  he  replied  that  she 
had  informed  him  that  she  was  married,  but  he 
had  no  idea  she  intended  to  bring  her  husband 
with  her.  He  was  very  sorry  that  this  was  neces- 
sary, but  in  his  judgment  the  man  would  not  live 
very  long. 

My  grandmother  was  greatly  pleased  when  I 
told  her  of  the  arrangement  I  had  made  to  assist 
a  devoted  wife  to  support  an  invalid  husband. 
She  considered  it  a  most  worthy  and  commendable 
action,  and  she  was  rejoiced  that  such  an  oppor- 
tunity had  been  afforded  me.  She  would  do  what 
she  could  to  make  the  poor  man  comfortable  while 
his  wife  was  at  work ;  and  if  he  had  any  sense  at 
all,  and  knew  what  was  to  his  advantage,  he 
would  be  very  careful  not  to  interfere  with  her 
duties. 

The  next  morning  the  couple  appeared,  and  the 
lady  was  ensconced  in  '^he  anteroom  to  my  study, 
which  I  had  fitted  up  for  the  use  of  my  secretary, 
where,  through  the  open  window  in  front  of  her, 
she  could  see  her  husband,  seated  in  a  rocking- 
chair,  under  a  wide-spreading  apple-tree.  By  his 
side  was  a  table,  on  which  lay  the  morning  paper 
and  some  books  which  my  grandmother  had  sent 
out  to  him.     For  a  time  she  gave  him  also  her 


86  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

society,  but,  as  she  subsequently  informed  me,  she 
did  not  find  him  responsive,  and  soon  concluded 
that  he  would  be  happier  if  left  to  his  reflections 
and  the  literature  with  which  she  had  provided 
him. 

As  an  amanuensis  I  found  my  new  assistant 
everything  that  could  be  desired.  She  wrote  rap- 
idly and  correctly,  never  asked  me  to  repeat, 
showed  no  nervousness  at  the  delays  in  my  dic- 
tation, and  was  ready  to  write  the  instant  I  was 
ready  to  speak.  She  was  quick  and  intelligent  in 
looking  up  synonyms,  and  appeared  perfectly  at 
home  in  the  dictionary.  But  in  spite  of  these  ad- 
mirable qualifications,  I  did  not  find  myself,  that 
morning,  in  a  condition  favorable  to  my  best  liter- 
ary work.  Whenever  my  secretary  was  not  actu- 
ally writing  she  was  looking  out  of  the  window ; 
sometimes  she  would  smile  and  nod,  and  on  three 
occasions,  while  I  was  considering,  not  what  I 
should  say  next,  but  whether  or  not  I  could  stand 
this  sort  of  thing,  she  went  gently  to  the  window, 
and  asked  the  invalid,  in  a  clear  whisper,  intended 
to  be  entirely  undisturbing,  how  he  was  getting  on 
and  if  he  wanted  anything. 

Two  days  after  this  the  air  was  damp  and  rain 
threatened,  and  the  malarial  gentleman  was  sup- 
plied with  comfortable  quarters  in  the  back  parlor. 
I  do  not  know  whether  or  not  he  liked  this  better 
than  sitting  under  a  tree,  but  I  am  sure  that  the 
change  did  not  please  his  wife.  She  could  not  look 
at  him,  and  she  could  not  ask  him  how  he  was  get- 
ting on  and  if  he  wanted  anything.    I  could  see  that 


TEE  MALARIAL  ADJUNCT.  3T 

she  was  worried  and  fidgety,  although  endeavoring 
to  work  as  faithfully  and  steadily  as  usual.  Twice 
during  a  break  in  the  dictation  she  asked  me  to 
excuse  her  for  just  one  minute,  while  she  ran  into 
the  parlor  to  take  a  peep  at  him. 

The  next  day  it  rained,  and  there  seemed  every 
probability  that  we  should  have  continued  wet 
weather,  and  that  it  would  be  days  before  the  ma- 
larial one  could  sit  under  the  apple-tree.  There- 
fore I  looked  the  situation  fairly  in  the  face.  It 
was  impossible  for  me  to  dictate  to  a  nervous,  anx- 
ious woman,  whose  obvious  mental  condition  acted 
most  annoyingly  upon  my  nerves,  and  I  suggested 
that  she  bring  her  husband  into  her  room,  and  let 
him  sit  there  while  she  worked.  With  this  propo- 
sition my  secretary  was  delighted. 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  charming !  "  she  cried.  "  He 
will  sit  just  as  still  as  a  mouse,  and  will  not  dis- 
turb either  of  us,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  see  how 
he  feels  without  saying  a  word." 

For  four  days  the  malarial  gentleman,  as  quiet 
as  a  mouse,  sat  by  my  secretary's  window,  while 
she  wrote  at  the  table,  and  I  walked  up  and  down 
my  study,  or  threw  myself  into  one  chair  or  an- 
other, endeavoring  to  forget  that  that  man  was  sit- 
ting by  the  window ;  that  he  was  trying  his  best 
not  to  do  anything  which  might  disturb  me ;  that 
he  did  not  read,  or  write,  or  occupy  his  mind  in 
any  way ;  that  he  heard  every  word  I  dictated  to 
his  wife  without  indicating  that  he  was  not  deaf, 
or  that  he  was  capable  of  judging  whether  my 
words  were  good,  bad,  or  unworthy  of  considerar 


38  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

tion.  Not  only  did  I  endeavor  not  to  think  of 
him,  but  I  tried  not  to  see  either  him  or  his  wife. 
The  silent,  motionless  figure  of  the  one,  and  the 
silent  but  animated  and  vivacious  figure  of  the 
other,  filled  with  an  eager  desire  to  do  her  work 
properly,  with  a  bubbling  and  hearty  love  for  her 
husband,  and  an  evident  joyousness  in  the  fact 
that  she  could  love,  work,  and  watch,  all  at  the 
same  time,  drove  from  my  mind  every  thought  of 
travel  or  foreign  experiences.  Without  the  ma- 
larial husband  I  should  have  asked  for  no  better 
secretary ;  but  he  spoiled  everything.  He  was 
like  a  raw  oyster  in  a  cup  of  tea. 

I  could  not  drive  from  my  mind  the  vision  of 
that  man  even  when  I  knew  he  was  asleep  in  his 
bed.  There  was  no  way  of  throwing  him  off. 
His  wife  had  expressed  to  my  grandmother  the 
delight  she  felt  in  having  him  in  the  room  with 
her  while  she  worked,  and  my  grandmother  had 
spoken  to  me  of  her  own  sympathetic  pleasure  in 
this  arrangement.  I  saw  it  would  be  impossible 
to  exile  him  again  to  the  apple-tree,  even  if  the 
ground  should  ever  be  dry  enough.  There  was  no 
hope  that  he  would  be  left  at  his  home  ;  there  was 
no  hope  that  he  would  get  better,  and  go  off  to  at- 
tend to  his  own  business ;  there  was  no  hope  that 
he  would  die. 

From  dictating  but  little  I  fell  to  dictating  al- 
most nothing  at  all.  To  keep  my  secretary  at 
work,  I  gave  her  some  notes  of  travel  of  which  to 
make  a  fair  copy,  while  I  occupied  myself  in  won- 
dering what  I  was  going  to  do  about  that  malarial 
husband. 


THE  MALARIAL  ADJUNCT.  39 

At  last  I  ceased  to  wonder,  and  I  did  something. 
I  went  to  the  city,  and,  after  a  day's  hard  work, 
I  secured  a  position  for  my  secretary  in  a  large 
publishing  establishment,  where  her  husband  could 
sit  by  a  window  in  a  secluded  corner,  and  keep  as 
quiet  as  a  mouse.  The  good  lady  overwhelmed 
me  with  thanks  for  my  kindness.  She  had  begun 
to  fear  that,  as  the  season  grew  colder,  the  daily 
trip  would  not  suit  her  husband,  and  she  gave  me 
credit  for  having  thought  the  same  thing. 

My  grandmother  and  Walkirk  were  greatly 
concerned,  as  well  as  surprised,  at  what  I  had  done. 
The  former  said  that,  if  I  attempted  to  write  my 
book  with  my  own  hand,  she  feared  the  sedentary 
work  would  tell  upon  my  health ;  and  my  under- 
study, while  regretting  very  much  that  his  efforts 
to  provide  me  with  an  amanuensis  had  proved  un- 
successful, showed  very  plainly,  although  he  did 
not  say  so,  that  he  hoped  I  had  found  that  author- 
ship was  an  annoying  and  unprofitable  business, 
and  that  I  would  now  devote  myself  to  pursuits 
which  were  more  oongenial,  and  in  which  he  could 
act  for  me  when  occasion  required. 


IX. 

walkirk's  idea. 

Walkirk  very  soon  discovered  that  I  had  no 
intention  whatever  of  giving  up  the  writing  of  my 
book,  and  I  quieted  the  fears  of  my  grandmother, 
in  regard  to  my  health,  by  assuring  her  that  the 
sedentary  work  connected  with  the  production  of 
my  volume  would  not  be  done  by  me.  Secretaries 
could  be  had,  and  I  would  get  one. 

This  determination  greatly  disturbed  Walkirk. 
He  did  not  wish  to  see  me  perform  a  service  for 
myseK  which  it  was  his  business  to  perform  for 
me,  and  in  which  he  had  failed.  I  know  that  he 
gave  the  matter  the  most  earnest  consideration, 
and  two  days  after  my  late  secretary  and  her  hus- 
band had  left  me  he  came  into  my  study,  his  face 
shining  with  a  new  idea. 

"  Mr.  Vanderley,"  said  he,  "  to  find  you  an 
amanuensis  who  will  exactly  suit  you,  and  who  will 
be  willing  to  come  here  into  the  country  to  work, 
is,  I  think  you  will  admit,  a  very  difficult  business ; 
but  I  do  not  intend,  if  I  can  help  it,  to  be  beaten 
by  it.  I  have  thought  of  a  plan  which  I  believe 
will  meet  all  contingencies,  and  1  have  come  to 
propose  it  to  you.  You  know  that  institution  just 
outside  the  village,  —  the  House  of  Martha  ?  " 


WALEIBK'S  IDEA.  41 

I  replied  that  I  knew  of  it. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  I  did  not  think  of  it 
until  a  day  or  two  ago,  and  I  have  since  been  in- 
quiring into  its  organization  and  nature.  That 
sisterhood  of  Martha  is  composed  of  women  who 
propose  not  only  to  devote  themselves  to  a  life  of 
goodness,  but  to  imitate  the  industrious  woman  for 
whom  they  have  named  themselves.  They  work 
not  only  in  their  establislunent,  but  wherever  they 
can  find  suitable  occupation,  and  all  that  they  earn 
is  devoted  to  the  good  of  the  institution.  Some  of 
them  act  as  nurses  for  the  sick,  —  for  pay  if  peo- 
ple can  ajfford  it,  for  nothing  if  they  cannot.  Oth- 
ers have  studied  medicine,  and  practice  in  the  same 
way.  They  also  prepare  medicines  and  dispense 
them,  and  do  a  lot  of  good  things,  —  if  possible, 
for  money  and  the  advantage  of  the  House  o£ 
Martha.  But  every  woman  who  joins  such  an  in- 
stitution cannot  expect  immediately  to  find  the  sort 
of  remunerative  work  she  can  best  do,  and  I  am 
informed  that  there  are  several  women  there  who, 
at  present,  are  unemployed.  Now,  it  is  my  opinion 
that  among  these  you  could  find  half  a  dozen  good 
secretaries." 

I  laughed  aloud.  "  Those  women,"  said  I, "  are 
just  the  same  as  nuns.  It  is  ridiculous  to  suppose 
that  one  of  them  would  be  allowed  to  come  here  as 
my  secretary,  even  if  she  wanted  to." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  persisted  Walkirk  ; 
"  I  do  not  see  why  literary,  or  rather  clerical,  pur- 
suits should  not  be  as  open  to  them  as  medicine 
or  nursing." 


42  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  You  may  not  see  it,"  said  I, "  but  I  fancy  that 
they  do." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  be  certain  on  that  point," 
he  replied,  "  until  we  have  proposed  the  matter  to 
them,  and  given  them  the  opportunity  to  consider 
it." 

"  If  you  imagine,"  I  said,  "  that  I  have  the  ef- 
frontery to  go  to  that  nunnery  —  for  it  is  no  more 
nor  less  than  that  —  and  ask  the  Lady  Abbess  to 
lend  me  one  of  her  nuns  to  write  at  my  dictation, 
you  have  very  much  mistaken  me." 

Walkirk  smiled.  "  I  hardly  expected  you  to  do 
that,"  said  he,  "  although  I  must  insist  that  it  is 
not  a  nunnery,  and  there  is  no  Lady  Abbess. 
There  is  a  Head  Mother,  and  some  sub-mothers,  I 
believe.  My  idea  was  that  Mrs.  Vanderley  should 
drive  over  there  and  make  inquiries  for  you,  A 
proposition  from  an  elderly  lady  of  such  high  po- 
sition in  the  community  would  have  a  much  better 
effect  than  if  it  came  from  a  gentleman." 

Walkirk's  plan  amused  me  very  much,  and  I 
told  him  I  would  talk  to  my  grandmother  about  it. 
When  I  did  so,  I  was  much  surprised  to  find  that 
she  received  the  idea  with  favor. 

"  That  Mr.  Walkirk,"  she  said,  "is  a  man  of  a 
good  deal  of  penetration  and  judgment,  and  if  you 
could  get  one  of  those  sisters  to  come  here  and 
write  for  you  I  should  like  it  very  much ;  and  if 
the  first  one  did  not  suit,  you  could  try  another 
without  trouble  or  expense.  The  fact  that  you  had 
a  good  many  strings  to  your  bow  would  give  you 
ease  of  mind  and  prevent  your  getting  discouraged. 


WALKIRK'S  IDEA.  48 

I  don't  want  you  to  give  up  the  idea  of  having  a 
secretary." 

Then,  with  some  hesitation,  my  good  grand* 
mother  confided  to  me  that  there  was  another  rea- 
son why  this  idea  of  employing  a  sister  pleased 
her.  She  had  been  a  little  afraid  that  some  lady 
secretary,  especially  like  that  very  pleasant  and 
exemplary  person  with  the  invalid  husband,  might 
put  the  notion  into  my  head  that  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  me  to  have  a  wife  to  do  my  writing. 
Now,  of  course  she  expected  me  to  get  married 
some  day.  That  was  all  right,  but  there  was  no 
need  of  my  being  in  any  hurry  about  it ;  and  as  to 
my  wife  doing  my  writing,  that  was  not  to  be 
counted  upon  positively.  Some  wives  might  not 
be  willing  to  do  it,  and  others  might  not  do  it  well ; 
so,  as  far  as  that  matter  was  concerned,  nothing 
would  be  gained.  But  one  of  those  sisters  would 
never  suggest  matrimony.  They  were  women 
apart  from  all  that  sort  of  thing.  They  had  cer- 
tain work  to  do  in  this  world,  and  they  did  it  for 
the  good  of  the  cause  in  which  they  were  enlisted, 
without  giving  any  thought  to  those  outside  mat- 
ters which  so  often  occupy  the  minds  of  women 
who  have  not,  in  a  manner,  separated  themselves 
from  the  world.  She  would  go  that  very  afternoon 
to  the  House  of  Martha  and  make  inquiries. 


THE  PLAN  OF    SECLUSION. 

My  grandmother  returned  from  the  House  of 
Martha  disappointed  and  annoyed.  Life  had  al- 
ways flowed  very  smoothly  for  her,  and  I  had 
::arely  seen  her  in  her  present  mental  condition. 

"  I  do  not  believe,"  she  said,  "  that  that  institu- 
tion will  succeed.  Those  women  are  too  narrow- 
minded.  If  they  were  in  a  regular  stone-walled 
convent,  it  would  be  another  thing,  but  they  are 
only  a  sisterhood.  They  are  not  shut  up  there; 
it 's  their  business  and  part  of  their  religion  to  go 
out,  and  why  they  should  not  be  willing  to  come 
here  and  do  good,  as  well  as  anywhere  else,  I  can- 
not see,  for  the  life  of  me." 

"  Then  they  objected  to  the  proposition  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  they  did,  and  without  any 
reason  whatever.  I  saw  their  superior,  whom  they 
call  Mother  Anastasia,  and  from  her  I  learned  that 
there  were  several  women  in  the  establishment  who 
were  thoroughly  competent  to  act  as  secretaries; 
but  when  I  proposed  that  one  of  them  should  come 
and  write  for  you,  she  said  that  would  not  do  at 
all.  I  reasoned  the  matter  with  her  :  that  litera- 
ture was  as  high  a  profession  as  medicine,  and  as 


THE  PLAN  OF  SECLUSION.  45 

much  good  could  be  done  with  the  practice  of  one 
as  the  other ;  and  if  the  sisters  went  out  to  nurse 
and  to  cure,  they  might  just  as  well  go  out  to  write 
for  those  who  cannot  write  for  themselves.  To 
that  she  answered,  it  was  not  the  writing  she  ob- 
jected to,  —  that  was  all  well  enough,  —  but  it  was 
decidedly  outside  of  the  vocation  of  the  order  for 
one  of  the  sisters  to  spend  her  mornings  with  a 
young  gentleman.  If  he  were  sick  and  suffering, 
and  had  no  one  else  to  attend  to  him,  it  would  be 
different.  Upon  this,  I  told  her  that  you  would  be 
sick  if  you  were  obliged  to  do  your  own  writing, 
and  therefore  I  could  n't  see  the  difference. 

"  But  I  must  admit  she  was  very  good-natured 
and  pleasant  about  it,  and  she  told  me  that  if  you 
chose  to 'Come  to  their  visitors'  room  and  make 
yourseK  comfortable  there,  and  dictate,  one  of  the 
sisters  would  sit  at  the  table  behind  the  gratinjr 
and  would  write  for  you.  I  replied  that  I  did  not 
believe  you  would  like  that,  but  that  I  would  men- 
tion it  to  you." 

I  laughed.  "So  much  for  Walkirk's  brilliant 
idea,"  I  said.  "  I  fancy  myself  going  every  morn- 
ing to  that  nunnery  to  do  my  work  in  their  cheer- 
less visitors'  room !  " 

"  Cheerless  ?  I  should  say  so !  "  exclaimed  my 
grandmother,  —  "  bare  floors,  bare  walls,  and  hard 
wooden  chairs.     It  is  not  to  be  thought  of." 

That  evening  I  informed  Walkirk  of  the  ill  suc- 
cess of  my  grandmother's  mission,  but  to  my  sur- 
prise he  did  not  appear  to  be  discouraged. 

"I   don't   think  we  need  have  any  trouble  at 


46  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

all  in  managing  that  affair,"  said  he.  "Why 
should  n't  you  have  a  grating  put  up  in  the  door- 
way between  your  study*  and  the  secretary's  room  ? 
Then  the  sister  could  go  in  there,  the  other  door 
could  be  locked,  and  she  would  be  as  much  shut  off 
from  the  world  as  if  she  were  behind  a  grating  in 
the  House  of  Martha.  I  believe,  if  this  plan  were 
proposed  to  the  sisters,  it  would  be  agreed  to." 

I  scouted  the  idea  as  utterly  absurd  ;  but  when, 
the  next  morning,  I  mentioned  it  to  my  grand- 
mother, she  caught  at  it  eagerly,  and  no  sooner 
had  she  finished  her  breakfast  than  she  ordered 
her  carriage  and  drove  to  the  House  of  Martha. 

She  returned  triumphant. 

"We  had  a  long  discussion,"  she  said,  "but 
Mother  Anastasia  finally  saw  the  matter  in  its 
proper  light.  She  admitted  that  if  a  room  could 
be  arranged  in  this  house,  in  which  a  sister  could 
be  actually  secluded,  there  was  no  good  reason 
why  she  should  not  work  there  as  consistently  with 
their  rules  as  if  she  were  in  the  House  of  Martha. 
Therefore,  she  agreed,  if  you  concluded  to  carry 
out  this  plan,  to  send  a  sister  every  morning  to 
write  for  you.  So  now,  if  you  want  a  secretary 
from  the  House  of  Martha,  you  can  have  one." 

To  this  I  replied  that  I  most  positively  wanted 
one ;  and  Walkirk  was  immediately  instructed  to 
have  a  suitable  grating  made  for  the  doorway  be- 
tween my  study  and  the  secretary's  room. 

Nearly  a  week  was  required  for  th^  execution 
of  this  work,  and  during  this  time  I  took  a  rest 
from  literary  composition  and  visited  some  friends, 


THE  PLAN  OF  SECLUSION.  47 

leaving  all  the  arrangements  for  my  new  secretary 
in  the  hands  of  my  grandmother  and  Walkirk. 
When  I  returned,  the  iron  grating  was  in  its 
place.  It  was  a  neat  and  artistic  piece  of  work, 
but  I  did  not  like  it.  I  object  decidedly  to  any- 
thing which  suggests  restraint.  The  whole  affair 
of  the  secretary  was  indeed  very  different  from 
what  I  would  have  had  it,  but  I  had  discovered 
that  even  in  our  advanced  era  of  civilization  one 
cannot  always  have  everything  he  wants,  albeit  he 
be  perfectly  able  and  willing  to  pay  for  it. 


XI. 

MY  NUN. 

At  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  appointed 
day  my  new  secretary  came,  accompanied  by  one 
of  those  sisters  called  by  Walkirk  sub-mothers. 

My  grandmother  received  the  two,  and  con- 
ducted them  to  the  secretary's  room.  I  was  sitting 
in  my  study,  but  no  attention  was  paid  to  me. 
The  sub-mother  advanced  to  the  grating,  and, 
having  examined  it,  appeared  satisfied  to  find  that 
it  was  securely  fastened  in  the  doorway.  The  nun, 
as  I  called  her,  although  Walkirk  assured  me  the 
term  was  incorrect,  stood  with  her  back  toward  me, 
and  when  her  companion  had  said  a  few  words  to 
her,  in  a  low  tone,  she  took  her  seat  at  the  table. 
She  wore  a  large  gray  bonnet,  the  sides  and  top  of 
which  extended  far  beyond  her  face,  a  light  gray 
shawl,  and  a  gray  gown.  She  sat  facing  the  win- 
dow, with  her  left  side  turned  toward  me,  and 
from  no  point  of  my  study  could  I  get  a  glimpse 
of  her  features. 

The  sub-mother  looked  out  of  the  window,  which 
opened  upon  little  more  than  the  once  husband- 
sheltering  apple-tree,  and  then,  after  a  general 
glance  around  the  room,  she  looked  at  me,  and  for 
the  first  time  addressed  me. 


MY  NUN.  49 

"  I  will  come  for  the  sister  at  twelve  o'clock," 
she  said,  and  with  that  she  followed  my  grand- 
mother out  of  the  room,  and  locked  the  door  be- 
hind her. 

I  stood  and  looked  through  the  grating  at  my 
new  secretary.  I  am  not  generally  a  diffident  man, 
and  have  never  been  so  with  persons  in  my  em- 
ployment ;  but  now,  I  must  admit,  I  did  not  feel 
at  my  ease.  The  nun  sat  perfectly  motionless ; 
her  hands  were  folded  in  her  gray  lap,  and  her 
gray  bonnet  was  slightly  bowed,  so  that  I  did  not 
know  whether  she  was  gazing  down  at  the  table  or 
out  of  the  window. 

She  was  evidently  ready  for  work,  but  I  was  not. 
I  did  not  know  exactly  how  to  begin  with  such  a 
secretary.  With  the  others  I  had  been  outspoken 
from  the  first ;  I  had  told  them  what  I  wanted  and 
what  I  did  not  want,  and  they  had  been  ready 
enough  to  listen  and  ready  enough  to  answer.  But 
to  this  silent,  motionless  gray  figure  I  did  not  feel 
that  I  could  be  outspoken.  No  words  suggested 
themselves  as  being  appropriate  to  speak  out.  If 
I  could  see  her  face  but  for  a  moment,  and  dis- 
cover whether  she  were  old  or  young,  cross-looking 
or  gentle,  I  might  know  what  to  say  to  her.  My 
impulse  was  to  tell  her  there  was  a  hook  on  which 
she  could  hang  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  but  as  I  did 
not  know  whether  or  not  these  sisters  ever  took  off 
their  bonnets  and  shawls,  I  did  not  feel  at  liberty 
to  make  this  suggestion. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  continue  there,  looking 
at  her.     She  might  be  a  very  shy  person,  and  if  I 


60  TRE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

appeared  shy  it  would  probably  make  her  all  the 
shyer  ;  so  I  spoke. 

"  You  will  find  paper,"  I  said,  "  in  the  drawer 
of  your  table,  and  there  are  pens,  of  different 
sorts,  in  that  tray."  She  opened  the  drawer,  took 
out  some  paper,  and  selected  a  pen,  all  without 
turning  her  head  toward  me.  Having  broken  the 
ice,  I  now  felt  impelled  to  deliver  a  short  lecture 
on  my  requirements ;  but  how  could  I  say  what  I 
required  without  knowing  what  manner  of  person 
it  was  of  whom  I  required  it  ?  I  therefore  post- 
poned the  lecture,  and  determined  to  begin  work 
without  further  delay,  as  probably  that  would  be 
the  best  way  to  put  us  both  at  our  ease.  But  it 
had  been  more  than  two  weeks  since  I  had  done 
any  work,  and  I  could  not  remember  what  it  was 
that  I  had  been  dictating,  or  endeavoring  to  dic- 
tate, to  the  lady  with  the  malarial  husband.  I 
therefore  thought  it  well  to  begin  at  a  fresh  point, 
and  to  leave  the  gap  to  be  filled  up  afterward.  I 
felt  quite  sure,  when  last  at  work,  I  had  been 
treating  of  the  south  of  France,  and  had  certainly 
not  reached  Marseilles.  I  therefore  decided  to 
take  a  header  for  Marseilles,  and  into  Marseilles  I 
plunged. 

As  soon  as  I  began  to  speak  the  nun  began  to 
write,  and  having  at  last  got  her  at  work  I  felt 
anxious  to  keep  her  at  it,  and  went  steadily  on 
through  the  lively  seaport;  touching  upon  one 
point  after  another  as  fast  as  I  thought  of  them, 
and  without  regard  to  their  proper  sequence.  But 
although  I  sometimes  skipped  from  one  end  of  the 


MY  NUN.  61 

City  to  the  other,  and  from  history  to  street  scenes, 
I  dictated  steadily,  and  the  nun  wrote  steadily. 
She  worked  rapidly,  and  apparently  heard  and 
understood  every  word  I  said,  for  she  asked  no 
questions  and  did  not  hesitate.  I  am  sure  I  never 
before  dictated  so  continuously.  I  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  stopping  a  good  deal  to  think,  not 
only  about  my  work,  but  about  other  things,  but 
now  I  did  not  wish  to  stop. 

This  amanuensis  was  very  different  from  any 
other  I  had  had.  '  The  others  worked  to  make 
money  for  themselves,  or  to  please  me,  or  because 
they  liked  it.  This  one  worked  from  principle. 
The  money  which  I  paid  for  her  labor  did  not 
become  her  money.  It  was  paid  to  the  House  of 
Martha.  She  sat  there  and  wrote  to  promote  the 
principles  upon  which  the  House  of  Martha  was 
founded.  In  fact,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  she 
was  nothing  more  than  a  principle. 

Now,  to  interfere  with  the  working  of  a  prin- 
ciple is  not  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  therefore 
I  felt  impelled  to  keep  on  dictating,  which  I  did 
until  the  hall  door  of  the  secretary's  room  was  un- 
locked and  the  sub-mother  walked  in.  She  came 
forward  and  said  a  few  words  to  the  nun,  who 
stopped  writing  and  wiped  her  pen.  The  other 
then  turned  to  me,  and  in  a  low  voice  asked  if  the' 
work  of  the  sister  was  satisfactory.  I  advanced 
to  the  grating,  and  answered  that  I  was  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  was  about  to  make  some  remarks, 
which  I  hoped  would  lead  to  a  conversation,  when 
the  sub-mother  —  whose    name    I    subsequently 


62  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA, 

learned  was  Sister  Sarah  —  made  a  little  bow,  and, 
saying  if  that  were  the  case  they  would  return  at 
nine  the  next  morning,  left  the  room  in  company 
with  the  nun.  The  latter,  when  she  arose  from 
the  table,  turned  her  back  to  me,  and  went  out 
without  giving  me  the  slightest  opportunity  of 
looking  into  her  cavernous  bonnet.  This  she  did, 
I  must  admit,  in  the  most  natural  way  possible, 
which  was  probably  the  result  of  training,  and 
gave  one  no  idea  of  rudeness  or  incivility. 

When  they  were  gone  I  was  piqued,  almost 
angry  with  myself.  I  had  intended  stopping  work 
a  little  before  noon,  in  order  to  talk  to  that  nun, 
even  if  she  did  not  answer  or  look  at  me.  She 
should  discover  that  if  she  was  a  principle,  I  was, 
at  least,  an  entity.  I  did  not  know  exactly  what 
I  should  say  to  her,  but  it  would  be  something  one 
human  being  would  be  likely  to  say  to  another 
human  being  who  was  working  for  him.  If  from 
the  first  I  put  myself  on  the  proper  level,  she 
might  in  time  get  there.  But  although  I  had  lost 
my  present  chance,  she  was  coming  again  the  next 
day. 

I  entered  the  secretary's  room  by  the  hall  door, 
and  looked  at  the  manuscript  which  had  been  left 
on  the  table.  It  was  written  in  an  excellent  hand, 
not  too  large,  very  legible,  and  correctly  punctu- 
ated. Everything  had  been  done  properly,  except 
that  after  the  first  three  pages  she  had  forgotten 
to  number  the  leaves  at  the  top  ;  but  as  every  sheet 
was  placed  in  its  proper  order,  this  was  an  omis- 
sion which  could  be  easily  rectified.     I  was  very 


MY  NUN.  63 

glad  she  had  made  it,  for  it  would  give  me  some- 
thing to  speak  to  her  about. 

At  luncheon  my  grandmother  asked  me  how  I 
liked  the  new  secretary,  and  added  that  if  she  did 
not  suit  me  I  could  try  another  next  day.  I  an- 
swered that  so  far  she  suited  me,  and  that  I  had 
not  the  least  wish  at  present  to  try  another.  I 
think  my  grandmother  was  about  to  say  something 
regarding  this  sister,  but  I  instantly  begged  her 
not  to  do  so.  I  wished  to  judge  her  entirely  on 
her  merits,  I  said,  and  would  rather  not  hear  any- 
thing about  her  until  I  had  come  to  a  decision  as 
to  her  abilities.  I  did  not  add  that  I  felt  such  an 
interest  in  the  anticipated  discovery  of  the  person- 
ality of  this  secretary  that  I  did  not  wish  that  dis' 
covery  interfered  with. 

In  the  evening  Walkirk  inquired  about  the  sis- 
ter-amanuensis, but  I  merely  answered  that  so  far 
she  had  done  very  well,  and  dropped  the  subject. 
In  my  own  mind  I  did  not  drop  the  subject  until 
I  fell  asleep  that  night.  I  found  myself  from  time 
to  time  wondering  what  sort  of  a  woman  was  that 
nun.  Was  she  an  elderly,  sharp-faced  creature; 
was  she  a  vapid,  fat-faced  creature,  or  a  young  and 
pleasing  creature  ?  And  when  I  had  asked  myself 
these  questions,  I  snubbed  myself  for  taking  the 
trouble  to  think  about  the  matter,  and  then  I  be- 
gan wondering  again. 

But  upon  one  point  I  firmly  made  up  my  mind  : 
the  relationship  between  my  secretary  and  myself 
should  not  continue  to  be  that  of  an  entity  dictat« 
ing  to  a  principle. 


XII. 

EZA. 

The  next  day,  when  the  nun  and  Sister  Sarah 
entered  the  secretary's  room,  I  advanced  to  the 
grating  and  bade  them  good-morning.  They  both 
bowed,  and  the  nun  took  her  seat  at  the  table. 
Sister  Sarah  then  turned  to  me  and  asked  if  I  had 
a  gold  pen,  adding  that  the  sister  was  accustomed 
to  writing  with  one.  I  answered  that  I  had  all 
kinds  of  pens,  and  if  the  sister  wanted  a  gold  one 
it  was  only  necessary  to  ask  me  for  it.  I  brought 
several  gold  pens,  and  handed  them  through  the 
grating  to  the  sub-mother,  who  gave  them  to  the 
secretary,  and  then  took  her  leave,  locking  the 
door  behind  her.  My  nun  took  one  of  the  pens, 
tried  it,  arranged  the  paper,  and  sat  ready  to  write. 
I  stood  by  the  grating,  hoping  to  converse  a  little, 
if  it  should  be  possible. 

"Is  there  anything  else  you  would  like?"  I 
said.  "  If  there  is,  you  know  you  must  mention 
it." 

She  gently  shook  her  head.  The  idea  now  o& 
curred  to  me  that  perhaps  my  nun  was  dumb ;  bu(; 
I  almost  instantly  thought  that  this  could  not  be^ 
for  dumb  people  were  almost  always  deaf,  and  shis 
could  hear  well  enough.     Then  it  struck  me  thai 


EZA.  55 

she  might  be  a  Trappist  nun,  and  bound  by  a  vow 
of  silence ;  but  I  reflected  that  she  was  not  really 
a  nun,  and  consequently  could  not  be  a  Trappist. 

Having  been  unsuccessful  in  my  first  attempt  to 
make  her  speak,  and  having  now  stood  silent  for 
some  moments,  I  felt  it  might  be  unwise  to  make 
another  trial  just  then,  for  my  object  would  be  too 
plain.     I  therefore  sat  down  and  began  dictating. 

I  did  not  work  as  easily  as  I  had  done  on  the 
preceding  morning,  for  I  intended,  if  possible,  to 
make  my  nun  look  at  me,  or  speak,  before  the  hour 
of  noon,  and  thinking  of  this  intention  prevented 
me  from  keeping  my  mind  upon  my  work.  From 
time  to  time  I  made  remarks  in  regard  to  the  tem- 
perature of  the  room,  the  quality  of  the  paper,  or 
something  of  the  kind.  To  these  she  did  not  an- 
swer at  all,  or  slightly  nodded,  or  shook  her  head 
in  a  deprecatory  manner,  as  if  they  were  martters 
not  worth  considering. 

Then  I  suddenly  remembered  the  omission  of 
the  paging,  and  spoke  of  that.  In  answer  she  took 
up  the  manuscript  she  had  written  and  paged  every 
sheet.  After  this  my  progress  was  halting  and 
uneven.  Involuntarily  my  mind  kept  on  devising 
plans  for  making  that  woman  speak  or  turn  her 
face  toward  me.  If  she  would  do  the  latter,  I 
would  be  satisfied ;  and  even  if  she  proved  to  be 
an  unveiled  prophetess  of  Khorassan,  there  would 
be  no  further  occasion  for  conjectures  and  wonder- 
ings,  and  I  could  go  on  with  my  work  in  peace. 
But  it  made  me  nervous  to  remain  silent,  and  see 
that  nun  sitting  there,  pen  in  hand,  but  motionless 


66  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAETHA. 

as  a  post,  and  waiting  for  me  to  give  her  the  signal 
to  continue  the  exercise  of  the  principle  to  which 
her  existence  was  now  devoted. 

I  went  on  with  my  dictation.  I  had  left  Mar- 
seilles, had  touched  slightly  upon  Nice,  and  was 
now  traveling  by  carriage  on  the  Cornice  Road 
to  Mentone.  "It  was  on  this  road,"  I  dictated, 
"  that  an  odd  incident  occurred  to  me.  We  were 
nearly  opposite  the  old  robber  village  of  "  —  and 
then  I  hesitated  and  stopped.  I  could  not  remem- 
ber the  name  of  the  village.  I  walked  up  and 
down  my  study,  rubbing  my  forehead,  but  the 
name  would  not  recur  to  me.  I  was  just  thinking 
that  I  would  have  to  go  to  the  library  and  look  up 
the  name  of  the  village,  when  from  out  of  the 
depths  of  the  nun's  bonnet  there  came  a  voice,  low 
but  distinct,  and,  I  thought,  a  little  impatient,  and 
it  said,  "  Eza." 

"  Eza !  of  course !  "  I  exclaimed,  —  "  certainly 
it  is  Eza !  How  could  I  have  forgotten  it  ?  I 
am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  reminding  me  of 
the  name  of  that  village.  Perhaps  you  have  been 
there?" 

In  answer  to  this  question  I  received  the  least 
little  bit  of  a  nod,  and  the  nun's  pen  began  gently 
to  paw  the  paper,  as  if  it  wanted  to  go  on. 

I  was  now  really  excited.  She  had  spokeuo 
Why  should  I  not  do  something  which  should 
make  her  turn  her  face  toward  me,  —  something 
which  would  take  her  off  her  guard,  as  my  forget- 
fulness  had  just  done?  But  no  idea  came  to  my 
aid,  and  I  felt  obliged  to  begin  to  dictate  the  de- 


EZA,  67 

tails  of  the  odd  incident,  when  suddenly  the  door 
opened,  Sister  Sarah  walked  in,  and  the  morning's 
work  was  over. 

I  had  not  done  much,  but  I  had  made  that  nun 
speak.  She  said  "  Eza."  That  was  a  beginning, 
and  I  felt  confident  that  I  should  get  on  very  well 
in  time.  I  was  a  little  sorry  that  my  secretary 
had  been  on  the  Cornice  Road.  I  fancied  that 
she  might  have  been  one  of  those  elderly  single 
women  who  become  Baedeker  tourists,  and,  having 
tired  of  this  sort  of  thing,  had  concluded  to  devote 
her  life  to  the  work  of  the  House  of  Martha.  But 
this  was  mere  idle  conjecture.  She  had  spoken, 
apd  I  should  not  indulge  in  pessimism. 

I  prepared  a  very  good  remark  with  which  to 
greet  the  sub-mother  on  the  next  morning,  and, 
although  addressing  Sister  Sarah,  I  would  be  in 
reality  speaking  to  my  nun.  I  would  say  how  well 
I  was  getting  on.  I  had  thought  of  saying  we 
were  getting  on,  but  reflected  afterward  that  this 
would  never  do;  1  was  sure  that  the  House  of 
Martha  would  not  allow,  under  any  circumstances, 
that  sister  and  myself  to  constitute  a  we.  Then  I 
would  refer  to  the  help  my  secretary  had  been 
to  me,  and  endeavor  to  express  the  satisfaction 
which  an  author  must  always  feel  for  a  suggestion 
of  this  kind,  or  any  other,  from  one  qualified  to 
make  them.  If  there  was  any  gratitude  or  vanity 
in  my  nun's  heart,  I. felt  I  could  stir  it  up,  if  Sis- 
ter Sarah  would  listen  to  me  long  enough  ;  and  if 
gratitude,  or  even  vanity,  could   be   stirred,  the 


58  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

rigidity  of  my  nun  would  be  impaired,  and  she 
might  find  herself  off  her  guard. 

But  I  had  no  opportunity  of  making  my  remark. 
At  nine  o'clock  the  door  of  the  secretary's  room 
opened,  the  nun  entered,  and  the  door  was  then 
closed  and  locked.  Sister  Sarah  must  have  been 
in  a  hurry  that  morning.  Just  as  well  as  not  I 
might  have  made  my  remark  directly  to  my  nun, 
but  I  did  not.  She  walked  quickly  to  the  table, 
arranged  her  paper,  opened  her  inkstand,  and  sat 
down.  I  fancied  that  I  saw  a  wavy  wriggle  of  im- 
patience in  her  shawl.  Perhaps  she  wanted  to 
know  the  rest  of  that  odd  incident  near  Eza.  It 
may  have  been  that  it  was  impatient  interest  which 
had  impaired  her  rigidity  the  day  before. 

I  went  on  with  the  odd  incident,  and  made  a 
very  good  thing  of  it.  Even  when  on  well-worn 
routes  of  travel,  I  tried  to  confine  myself  to  out- 
of-the-way  experiences.  Walkirk  had  been  very 
much  interested  in  this  affair  when  I  had  told  it 
to  him,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  this  nun 
should  not  also  be  interested,  especially  as  she  had 
seen  Eza. 

I  finished  the  narrative,  and  began  another,  a 
rather  exciting  one,  connected  with  the  breaking 
of  a  carriage  wheel  and  an  exile  from  Monte  Carlo ; 
but  never  once  did  curiosity  or  any  other  emotion 
impair  the  rigidity  of  that  nun.  She  wrote  almost 
as  fast  as  I  could  dictate,  and  when  I  stopped  I 
know  she  was  filled  with  nervous  desire  to  know 
what  was  coming  next,  —  at  least  I  fancied  that 


EZA,  59 

her  shawl  indicated  such  nervousness ;  but  hesitate 
as  I  might,  or  say  what  I  might,  —  and  I  did  say 
a  good  many  things  which  ahnost  demanded  a  re- 
mark or  answer,  —  not  one  word  came  from  her 
during  the  whole  morning,  nor  did  she  ever  turn 
the  front  of  her  bonnet  toward  me. 


XIII. 

MY  FRIEND  VESPA. 

1  WAS  very  much  disgusted  at  the  present  state 
of  affairs.  Three  days  had  elapsed,  and  I  did  not 
know  what  sort  of  a  human  being  my  secretary 
was.  I  might  as  well  dictate  into  a  speaking-tube. 
A  phonograph  would  be  better;  for  although  it 
might  seem  ridiculous  to  sit  in  my  room  and  talk 
aloud  to  no  one,  what  was  I  doing  now?  That 
nun  was  the  same  as  no  one. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  there  would  be 
no  work,  and  no  chance  to  solve  the  problem,  which 
had  become,  an  actual  annoyance  to  me ;  but  I  did 
not  intend  that  this  problem  should  continue  to 
annoy  me  and  interfere  with  my  work.  I  am  open 
and  aboveboard  myself,  and  if  my  secretary  did 
not  choose  to  be  open  and  aboveboard,  and  behave 
like  an  ordinary  human  being,  she  should  depart, 
and  I  would  tell  Walkirk  to  get  me  an  ordinary 
human  being,  capable  of  writing  from  dictation, 
or  depart  himself.  If  he  could  not  provide  me 
J^ith  a  suitable  secretary,  he  was  not  the  efficient 
man  of  business  that  he  claimed  to  be.  As  to  the 
absurdity  of  dictating  to  a  mystery  in  a  barrow 
bonnet,  I  would  have  no  more  of  it. 

I  do  not  consider  myself  an  ill-tempered  person, 


Mr  FBIEND  VESPA.  61 

and  my  grandmother  asserts  that  I  have  a  very- 
good  temper  indeed ;  but  I  must  admit  that  on 
Monday  morning  I  felt  a  little  cross,  and  when 
Sister  Sarah  and  the  nun  entered  my  antechamber 
I  bade  them  a  very  cold  good-morning,  and  allowed 
the  former  to  go  without  attempting  any  conversa- 
tion whatever.  The  nun  having  arrived,  I  would 
not  send  her  away ;  but  when  the  sub-mother  came 
at  noon,  I  intended  to  inform  her  that  I  did  not 
any  longer  desire  the  services  of  the  writing  sister, 
and  if  she  wished  to  know  why  I  should  tell  her 
plainly.  I  would  not  say  that  I  would  as  soon 
dictate  to  an  inanimate  tree-stump,  but  I  would 
express  that  idea  in  as  courteous  terms  as  possible. 

For  fifteen  minutes  I  let  the  nun  sit  and  wait. 
If  her  principles  forbade  idleness,  I  was  glad  to 
have  a  crack  at  her  principles.  Then  I  began  to 
dictate  steadily  and  severely.  I  found  that  the 
dismissal  from  my  mind  of  all  conjectures  regard- 
ing the  personality  of  my  secretary  was  of  great 
service  to  me,  and  I  was  able  to  compose  much 
faster  than  she  could  write. 

It  was  about  haK  past  ten,  I  think,  and  the 
morning  was  warm  and  pleasant,  when  there  gently 
sailed  into  the  secretary's  room,  through  the  open 
window,  a  wasp.  I  saw  him  come  in,  and  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  beheld  a  more  agreeable  or  benignant 
insect.  His  large  eyes  were  filled  with  the  light 
of  a  fatherly  graciousness.  His  semi-detached 
body  seemed  to  quiver  with  a  helpful  impulse,  and 
his  long  hind  legs  hung  down  beneath  him  as 
though  they  were  outstretched  to  assist,  befriend. 


62  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAETHA, 

or  succor.  With  wings  waving  blessings  and  a 
buzz  of  cheery  greeting,  he  sailed  around  the  room, 
now  dipping  here,  now  there,  and  then  circling 
higher,  tapping  the  ceiling  with  his  genial  back. 

The  moment  the  nun  saw  the  wasp,  a  most  de- 
cided thrill  ran  down  the  back  of  her  shawl.  Then 
it  pervaded  her  bonnet,  and  finally  the  whole  of 
her.  As  the  beneficent  insect  sailed  down  near 
the  table,  she  abruptly  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
pushed  back  her  chair.  I  advanced  to  the  grating, 
but  what  could  •  I  do  ?  Seeing  me  there,  and 
doubtless  with  the  desire  immediately  to  assure  me 
of  his  kindly  intentions,  my  friend  Vespa  made  a 
swoop  directly  at  the  front  of  the  nun's  bonnet. 

With  an  undisguised  ejaculation,  and  beating 
wildly  at  the  insect  with  her  hands,  the  nun 
bounded  to  one  side  and  turned  her  face  full  upon 
me.     I  stood  astounded.     I  forgot  the  wasp. 

I  totally  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  a  young  wo- 
man was  in  danger  of  being  badly  stung.  I  thought 
of  nothing  but  that  she  was  a  young  woman,  and 
a  most  astonishingly  pretty  one  besides. 

The  state  of  terror  she  was  in  opened  wide  her 
lovely  blue  eyes,  half  crimsoned  her  clear  white 
skin,  and  threw  her  rosy  lips  and  sparkling  teeth 
into  the  most  enchanting  combinations. 

"  Make  it  go  away !  "  she  cried,  throwing  up  one 
arm,  and  thereby  pushing  back  her  gray  bonnet, 
and  exhibiting  some  of  the  gloss  of  her  light  brown 
hair.     "  Can't  you  kiU  it  ?  " 

Most  gladly  would  I  have  rushed  in,  and  shed 
with  my  own  hands  the  blood  of  my  friend  Vespa, 


MY  FRIEND  VESPA.  63 

for  the  sake  of  this  most  charming  young  woman, 
suddenly  transformed  from  a  barrow-bonneted 
principle.  But  I  was  powerless.  I  could  not 
break  through  the  grating ;  the  other  door  of  the 
secretary's  room  was  locked. 

"  Don't  strike  at  it,"  I  said  ;  "  remain  as  motion- 
less as  you  can,  then  perhaps  it  will  fly  away« 
Striking  at  a  wasp  only  enrages  it." 

"  I  can't  stay  quiet,"  she  cried ;  "  nobody  could !  " 
and  she  sprang  behind  the  table,  making  at  the 
same  time  another  slap  at  the  buzzing  insect. 

"  You  will  surely  be  stung,"  I  said,  "  if  you  act 
in  that  way.  If  you  will  slap  at  the  wasp,  don't 
use  your  hand;  take  something  with  which  you 
can  kill  it." 

"  What  can  I  take  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  now  run. 
ning  round  the  table,  and  stopping  close  to  the 
grating.     "  Give  me  something." 

I  hurriedly  glanced  around  my  study.  I  saw 
nothing  that  would  answer  for  a  weapon  but  a 
whisk  broom,  which  I  seized,  and  endeavored  to 
thrust  through  the  meshes  of  the  grating. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  as  the  wasp  made  a  desperate 
dive  close  to  her  face,  "  give  me  that,  quick !  "  and 
she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  me. 

"  I  cannot,"  I  replied ;  "  I  can't  push  it  through. 
It  won't  go  through.     Take  your  bonnet." 

At  this,  my  nun  seized  her  bonnet  by  a  sort  of 
floating  hood  which  hung  around  the  bottom  of  it 
and  jerked  it  from  her  head,  bringing  with  it  cer- 
tain flaps  and  ligatures  and  combs,  which,  being 
thus  roughly  removed,  allowed  a  mass  of  wavy 
hair  to  fall  about  her  shoulders. 


64  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"Waving  her  bonnet  in  her  hand,  like  a  slung- 
shot,  she  sprang  back  and  waited  for  the  wasp. 
When  the  buzzing  creature  came  near  enough,  she 
made  a  desperate  crack  at  him,  missing  him ;  she 
struck  again  and  again,  now  high,  now  low ;  she 
dashed  from  side  to  side  of  the  room,  and  with  one 
of  her  mad  sweeps  she  scattered  a  dozen  pages  of 
manuscript  upon  the  floor. 

The  view  of  this  combat  was  enrapturing  to  me  ; 
the  face  of  my  nun,  now  lighted  by  a  passionate 
determination  to  kill  that  wasp,  was  a  delight  to 
my  eyes.  If  I  could  have  assured  myself  that  the 
wasp  would  not  sting  her,  I  would  have  helped 
him  to  prolong  the  battle  indefinitely.  But  my 
nun  was  animated  by  very  different  emotions.  She 
was  bound  to  be  avenged  upon  the  wasp,  and 
avenged  she  was.  Almost  springing  into  the  air, 
she  made  a  grand  stroke  at  him,  as  he  receded 
from  her,  hit  him,  and  dashed  him  against  the 
wall.  He  fell  to  the  floor,  momentarily  disabled, 
but  flapping  and  buzzing.  Then  down  she  stooped, 
and  with  three  great  whacks  with  her  bonnet  she 
finished  the  battle.     The  wasp  lay  motionless. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  throwing  her  bonnet  upon  the 
table,  "  I  will  close  that  window ;  "  and  she  walked 
across  the  room,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling,  her  face 
glowing  from  her  violent  exercise,  and  her  rich 
brown  hair  hanging  in  long  waves  upon  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  I  said ;  "  it  will  make  your 
room  too  warm.  There  is  a  netting  screen  in  the 
corner  there.     If  you  put  that  under  the  sash,  it 


MY  FBIEND  VESPA,  65 

will  keep  out  all  insects.     I  wish  I  could  do  it  for 
you." 

She  took  the  frame  and  fitted  it  under  the  sash. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  know  that  before,"  she 
said,  as  she  returned  to  her  table ;  "  this  is  a  very 
bad  piece  of  business." 

I  begged  her  to  excuse  me  for  not  having  in 
formed  her  of  the  screen,  but  I  did  not  say  that 
I  was  sorry  for  what  had  occurred.  I  merely 
expressed  my  gratification  that  she  had  not  been 
stung.  Her  chair  had  been  pushed  away  from  the 
table,  its  back  against  the  wall,  opposite  to  me. 
She  seated  herself  upon  it,  gently  panting.  She 
looked  from  side  to  side  at  the  sheets  of  manu- 
script scattered  upon  the  floor. 

"  I  will  pick  them  up  presently  and  go  to  work, 
but  I  must  rest  a  minute."  She  did  not  now  seem 
to  consider  that  it  was  of  the  slightest  consequence 
whether  I  saw  her  face  or  not. 

"  Never  mind  the  papers,"  I  said ;  "  leave  them 
there ;  they  can  be  picked  up  any  time." 

"  I  wish  that  were  the  worst  of  it ;  "  and  as  she 
spoke  she  raised  her  eyes  toward  me,  and  the  least 
little  bit  of  a  smile  came  upon  her  lips,  as  if,  though 
troubled,  she  could  not  help  feeling  the  comical 
absurdity  of  the  situation. 

"  It  is  simply  dreadful,"  she  continued.  "  I 
don't  believe  such  a  thing  ever  before  happened  to 
a  sister." 

"There  is  nothing  dreadful  about  it,"  said  I; 
"  and  do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  sisters  of  the 
House  of  Martha,  who  go  out  to  nurse,  and  do  all 


66  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

sorts  of  good  deeds,  never  speak  to  the  people  they 
are  befriending,  nor  allow  them  to  look  upon  their 
faces?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  she,  "  you  have  to  talk  to  sick 
people  ;  otherwise  how  could  you  know  what  they 
need  ?  But  this  is  a  different  case  ;  "  and  she  be- 
gan to  gather  up  her  hair  and  twist  it  at  the  back 
of  her  head. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  I  remarked ;  "  why  is  it 
a  different  case  ?  " 

"  It  is  as  different  as  it  can  be,"  said  she,  pick- 
ing up  her  comb  from  the  floor  and  thrusting  it 
through  her  hastily  twisted  knot  of  hair.  "I 
should  not  have  come  here  at  all  if  your  grand- 
mother had  not  positively  asserted  that  there  would 
be  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  listen  and  to  write. 
And  Mother  Anastasia  and  Sister  Sarah  both  of 
them  especially  instructed  me  that  I  was  not  to 
speak  to  you  nor  to  look  at  you,  but  simply  to  sit 
at  the  table  and  work  for  the  good  of  the  cause. 
That  was  all  I  had  to  do  ;  and  I  am  sure  I  obeyed 
just  as  strictly  as  anybody  could,  except  once, 
when  you  forgot  the  name  of  Eza,  and  I  was  so 
anxious  to  have  you  go  on  with  the  incident  that 
I  could  not  help  mentioning  it.  And  now,  I  am 
sure  I  don't  know  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"Do?"  I  asked.  "There  is  nothing  to  do 
except  to  begin  writing  where  you  left  off.  The 
wasp  is  dead." 

"  I  wish  it  had  never  been  born,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  no  doubt  that  the  whole  affair  should  come 
to  an  end  now,  and  that  I  ought  to  go  home ;  but  I 


MY  FRIEND  VESPA.  67 

can't  do  that  until  Sister  Sarah  comes  to  unlock  the 
door,  and  so  I  suppose  we  had  better  go  to  work." 

"  We "  I  I  would  not  have  dared  to  use  that 
word,  but  it  fell  from  her  lips  in  the  easiest  and 
most  conventional  manner  possible.  It  was  de- 
lightful to  hear  it.  I  never  knew  before  what  a 
pleasant  sound  the  word  had.  She  now  set  herself 
to  work  to  gather  up  the  papers  from  the  floor, 
and,  having  arranged  them  in  their  proper  order, 
she  took  up  her  bonnet. 

"  Do  you  have  to  wear  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered,  clapping  it  on  and 
pulling  it  well  forward. 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  very  hot  and  un- 
comfortable," I  remarked. 

"  It  is,"  she  admitted  curtly ;  and,  seating  her- 
self at  the  table,  she  took  up  her  pen. 

I  now  perceived  that  if  I  knew  what  was  good 
for  myself  I  would  cease  from  speaking  on  ordinary 
topics,  and  go  on  with  my  dictation.  This  I  did, 
giving  out  my  sentences  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
although  I  must  admit  I  took  no  interest  whatever 
in  what  I  was  saying,  nor  do  I  believe  that  my  sec- 
retary was  interested  in  the  subject-matter  of  my 
work.  She  wrote  rapidly,  and,  as  well  as  I  could 
judge,  appeared  excited  and  annoyed.  I  was  ex- 
cited also,  but  not  in  the  least  disturbed.  My 
emotions  were  of  a  highly  pleasing  character.  We 
worked  steadily  for  some  twenty  minutes,  when 
suddenly  she  stopped  and  laid  down  her  pen. 

"Of  course  it  isn't  right  to  speak,"  she  said, 
turning  in  her  chair  and  speaking  to  me  face  to 


68  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

face,  as  one  human  being  to  another,  "  but  as  I 
have  said  so  much  already,  I  don't  suppose  a  little 
more  will  make  matters  worse,  and  I  must  ask 
somebody's  help  in  making  up  my  mind  what  I 
ought  to  do.  I  suspect  I  have  made  all  sorts  of 
mistakes  in  this  writing,  but  I  could  not  keep  my 
thoughts  on  my  work.  I  have  been  trying  my 
best  to  decide  how  I  ought  to  act,  but  I  cannot 
make  up  my  mind." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  help  you,  if  I  can,"  I 
ventured.  "  What 's  the  point  that  you  cannot 
decide?" 

"  It  is  just  this,"  she  replied,  fixing  her  blue 
eyes  upon  me  with  earnest  frankness:  "am  I  to 
tell  the  sisters  what  has  happened  or  not  ?  If  I 
tell  them,  I  know  exactly  what  wiU  be  the  result : 
I  shall  come  here  no  more,  and  I  shall  have  to  take 
Sister  Hannah's  place  at  the  Measles  Refuge. 
There 's  nothing  in  this  world  that  I  hate  like 
measles.  I  've  had  them,  but  that  does  n't  make 
the  slightest  difference.  Sister  Hannah  has  asked 
to  be  relieved,  and  I  know  she  wants  this  place 
dreadfully." 

"  She  cannot  come  here  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I 
don't  believe  I  ever  had  the  measles,  and  I  will  not 
have  them." 

"  She  is  a  stenographer,"  said  she,  "  and  she  will 
most  certainly  be  ordered  to  take  my  place  if  I 
make  known  what  I  have  done  to-day." 

"  Supposing  you  were  sure  that  you  were  not 
obliged  to  go  to  the  Measles  Refuge,"  I  asked, 
"  should  you  still  regret  giving  up  this  position  ?  " 


MY  FRIEND  VESPA.  69 

"  Of  course  I  should,"  she  answered  promptly. 
"  I  must  work  at  something,  or  I  cannot  stay  in 
the  House  of  Martha ;  and  there  is  no  work  which 
I  like  so  well  as  this.     It  interests  me  extremely." 

"  Now  hear  me,"  said  I,  speaking  perhaps  a  lit- 
tie  too  earnestly,  "  and  I  do  not  believe  any  one 
could  give  you  better  advice  than  I  am  going  to 
give  you.  What  has  occurred  this  morning  was 
strictly  and  absolutely  an  accident.  A  wasp  came 
in  at  the  window  and  tried  to  sting  you  ;  and  there 
is  no  woman  in  the  world,  be  she  a  sister  or  not, 
who  could  sit  still  and  let  a  wasp  sting  her." 

"  No,"  she  interrupted,  "  I  don't  believe  Mother 
Anastasia  could  do  it." 

"And  what  followed,"  I  continued,  "was  per- 
fectly natural,  and  could  not  possibly  be  helped. 
You  were  obliged  to  defend  yourself,  and  in  so 
doing  you  were  obliged  to  act  just  as  any  other 
woman  would  act.  Nothing  else  would  have  been 
possible,  and  the  talking  and  all  that  came  in  with 
the  rest.     You  could  n't  help  it." 

"  That 's  the  way  the  matter  appeared  to  me," 
said  she  ;  "  but  the  question  would  arise,  if  it  were 
all  right,  why  should  I  hesitate  to  tell  the  sisters  ?  " 

"  Hesitate  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  You  should  not 
even  think  of  such  a  thing.  No  matter  what  the 
sisters  really  thought  about  it,  I  am  sure  they 
would  not  let  you  come  here  any  more,  and  you 
would  be  sent  to  the  measles  institution,  and  thus 
actually  be  punished  for  the  attempted  wickedness 
of  a  wasp." 

"  But  there  is  the  other  side  of  the  matter,"  said 


TO  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

she ;  "  would  it  not  be  wicked  in  me  not  to  tell 
them  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  replied.  "  You  do  not  repeat  to 
the  sisters  all  that  I  tell  you  to  write  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  interrupted. 

"  And  you  do  not  consider  it  your  duty,"  I  con- 
tinued, "  to  relate  every  detail  of  the  business  in 
which  you  are  employed  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  They  ask  me  some  things, 
and  some  things  I  have  mentioned  to  them,  such 
as  not  having  at  gold  pen." 

"Very  good,"  said  I.  "You  should  consider 
that  defending  yourself  against  wasps  is  just  as 
much  your  business  here  as  anything  else.  If  you 
are  stung,  it  is  plain  you  can't  write,  and  the  inter- 
ests of  your  employer  and  of  the  House  of  Martha 
must  suffer." 

"Yes,"  she  assented,  still  with  the  steady  gaze 
of  her  blue  eyes. 

"  Now  your  duty  is  clear,"  I  went  on.  "  If  the 
sisters  ask  you  if  a  wasp  flew  into  your  room  and 
tried  to  sting  you,  and  you  had  to  jump  around 
and  kill  it,  and  speak,  before  you  could  go  on  with 
your  work,  why,  of  course  you  must  tell  them ;  but 
if  they  don't  ask  you,  don't  teU  them.  It  may 
seem  ridiculous  to  you,"  I  continued  hurriedly,  "  to 
suppose  that  they  would  ask  such  a  question,  but  I 
put  it  in  this  way  to  show  you  the  principle  of  the 
thing." 

She  withdrew  her  eyes  from  my  face,  and  fixed 
them  upon  the  floor. 

"  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,"  she  said  presently, 


MY  FRIEND   VESPA.  71 

"  that  I  have  n't  done  anything  wrong ;  at  least  I 
did  n't  intend  to.  I  might  have  crouched  down  in 
the  corner,  with  my  face  to  the  wall,  and  have  cov- 
ered my  head  and  hands  with  my  shawl,  but  I 
should  have  been  obliged  to  stay  there  until  Sister 
Sarah  came,  and  I  should  have  been  smothered  to 
death  ;  and  besides,  I  did  n't  think  of  it ;  so  what  I 
did  do  was  the  only  thing  I  could  do,  and  I  do  not 
think  I  ought  to  be  punished  for  it." 

"  Now  it  is  settled,"  I  said.  "  Your  duty  is  to 
work  here  for  the  benefit  of  your  sisterhood,  and 
you  should  not  allow  a  wasp  or  any  insect  to  inter- 
fere with  it." 

She  looked  at  me,  and  smiled  a  little  abstract- 
edly.    Then  she  turned  to  the  table. 

"  I  will  go  on  with  my  work,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
will  not  say  anything  to  the  sisters  until  I  have 
given  the  matter  most  earnest  and  careful  consid- 
eration. I  can  do  that  a  great  deal  better  at  home 
than  I  can  here." 

It  was  very  well  that  she  stopped  talking  and 
applied  herself  to  her  work,  for  I  do  not  believe  it 
was  ten  minutes  afterward  when  Sister  Sarah  un- 
locked the  door,  and  came  in  to  take  her  away. 


XIV. 

I  FAVOR   PERMANENCY   IN   OFFICE. 

As  soon  as  my  secretary  had  gone  I  went  into 
her  room  and  looked  for  my  friend  Vespa.  I 
found  him  on  the  floor,  quite  dead,  but  not  demol- 
ished. Picking  him  up  and  carrying  him  to  my 
study,  I  carefully  gummed  him  to  a  card.  Under 
his  motionless  form  I  wrote,  "The  good  services 
of  this  friend  I  shall  ever  keep  in  grateful  remem- 
brance." Then  I  pinned  the  card  to  the  wall  be- 
tween two  bookcases. 

During  the  rest  of  that  day  I  found  myself  in  a 
state  of  unreasonable  exaltation.  Several  times  I 
put  to  myself  the  questions  :  Why  is  it  that  you 
feel  so  cheerful  and  so  gay  ?  Why  have  you  the 
inclination  to  whistle  and  to  dance  in  your  room  ? 
Why  do  you  light  a  cigar,  and  let  it  go  out  through 
f orgetf ulness  ?  Why  do  you  answer  your  grand- 
mother at  ra.ndom,  and  feel  an  inclination  to  take 
a  long  walk  by  yourself,  although  you  know  there 
are  people  invited  to  an  afternoon  tea  ? 

I  was  not  able  to  give  an  adequate  answer  to 
these  questions,  nor  did  I  very  much  care  to.  I 
knew  that  my  high  spirits  were  caused  by  the  dis- 
coveries the  good  Vespa  had  enabled  me  to  make, 
and  the  fact  that  this  reason  could  not  be  proved 


I  FAVOR  PERMANENCY  IN  OFFICE.        73 

adequate  did  not  trouble  me  at  all ;  but  prudence 
and  a  regard  for  my  own  interests  made  it  very- 
plain  to  me  that  other  people  should  not  know  I 
had  been  exalted,  and  how.  If  I  desired  my  nun 
to  continue  as  my  secretary,  I  must  not  let  any  one 
know  that  I  cared  in  the  least  to  hear  her  voice,  or 
to  have  the  front  of  her  bonnet  turned  towards  me. 

At  dinner,  that  day,  my  grandmother  remarked 
to  me  :  — 

"  Are  you  still  satisfied  with  the  House  of  Mar- 
tha's sister  ?  Does  she  do  your  work  as  you  wish 
to  have  it  done  ?  " 

I  leaned  back  in  my  chair,  and  answered  with 
deliberation :  — 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  will  do  very  well,  and  that  af- 
ter more  practice  she  will  do  better.  As  it  is,  she 
is  industrious  and  attentive.  I  place  great  stress 
upon  that  point,  for  I  do  not  like  to  repeat  my  sen- 
tences ;  but  she  has  a  quick  ear,  and  catches  every 
word." 

"Then,"  asked  my  grandmother,  "you  do  not 
wish  to  make  a  change  at  present  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said ;  "  it  would  be  very  annoying 
to  begin  again  with  a  new  amanuensis.  I  am  get- 
ting accustomed  to  this  person,  and  that  is  a  very 
important  matter  with  me.  So  I  do  not  wish  to 
make  any  change  so  long  as  this  sister  does  her 
work  properly." 

"  I  must  say,"  resumed  my  grandmother,  after  a 
little  pause,  in  which  she  seemed  to  be  considering 
the  subject,  "  that  I  was  not  altogether  in  favor  of 
that  young  woman  taking  the  position  of  your  seo- 


74  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

retary.  She  can  have  had  but  little  experience, 
and  I  thought  that  an  older  and  steadier  person 
would  answer  your  purpose  much  better  ;  but  this 
one  was  unemployed  at  the  time,  and  wished  very 
much  to  do  literary  work ;  and  as  the  institution 
needed  the  money  you  would  pay,  which  would 
probably  amount  to  a  considerable  sum  if  your 
book  should  be  a  long  one,  and  as  you  were  in  a 
great  hurry,  and  might  engage  some  one  from  the 
city  if  one  of  the  Martha  sisters  were  not  immedi- 
ately available^  Mother  Anastasia  and  I  concluded 
that  it  would  be  well  to  send  this  young  person  un- 
til one  of  the  older  sisters,  competent  for  the  work, 
should  be  disengaged.  I  thought  you  would  be 
very  anxious  to  have  this  change  made  as  soon  as 
possible,  so  that  you  might  feel  that  you  had  a  per- 
manent secretary." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  I,  trying  very  hard  not  to  appear 
too  much  in  earnest.  "  This  person  is  very  steady, 
and  there  is  a  certain  advantage  in  her  being 
young,  without  much  experience  as  a  secretary.  I 
wish  any  one  who  writes  for  me  to  work  in  my 
way ;  and  if  such  a  person  has  been  accustomed  to 
work  in  other  people's  ways,  annoyance  and  inter- 
ruption must  surely  result,  and  that  I  wish  very 
much  to  avoid.  A  secretary  should  be  a  mere 
writing-machine,  and  I  do  not  believe  an  elderly 
person  could  be  that.  She  would  be  sure  to  have 
notions  how  my  work  should  or  should  not  be 
done,  and  in  some  way  or  other  would  make  those 
notions  evident." 

"  I  don't  quite  agi^ee  with  you,"  said  my  grand- 


I  FAVOR  PERMANENCY  IN  OFFICE.        75 

mother,  "  but  of  course  you  know  your  own  busi- 
ness better  than  I  do  ;  and  I  suppose,  after  all,  it 
doesn't  make  much  difference  whether  the  sister 
is  young  or  not.  They  all  dress  alike,  and  all  look 
ugly  alike.  I  don't  suppose  there  would  be  any- 
thing attractive  about  the  Venus  de  Milo,  if  she 
wore  a  coal-scuttle  bonnet  and  a  gray  woolen 
shawl." 

"  No,"  I  answered,  "  especially  if  she  kept  the 
opening  of  her  coal-scuttle  turned  down  over  her 
paper,  as  if  she  were  about  to  empty  coals  upon 
it." 

"  That 's  very  proper,"  said  my  grandmother, 
speaking  a  little  more  briskly.  "  All  she  has  to 
do  is  to  keep  her  eyes  on  her  work,  and  I  suppose, 
from  what  you  say,  that  the  flaps  of  her  bonnet  do 
not  interfere  with  her  keeping  her  ears  on  you. 
But  if  at  any  time  you  desire  to  make  a  change, 
all  you  have  to  do  is  to  let  me  know,  and  I  can 
easily  arrange  the  matter." 

I  promised  that  I  would  certainly  let  her  know 
in  case  I  had  such  a  desire. 

That  evening  Walkirk  remarked  to  me  that  he 
thought  nothing  could  be  more  satisfactory  for  me 
than  to  have  on  tap,  so  to  speak,  an  institution  like 
the  House  of  Martha,  from  which  I  could  draw  a 
secretary  whenever  I  wanted  one,  and  keep  her 
for  as  long  or  as  short  a  time  as  pleased  me  ;  and 
to  have  this  supply  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
was  an  extraordinary  advantage. 

I  agreed  that  the  arrangement  was  a  very  good 
one ;  and  I  think  he  was  about  to  ask  some  ques- 


76  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

tions  in  regard  to  my  nun,  but  I  began  my  recital, 
and  cut  off  any  further  conversation  on  the  subject. 
My  monologue  was  rather  disjointed  that  even- 
ing, for  my  mind  was  occupied  with  other  things, 
or,  more  strictly  speaking,  another  thing.  I  felt 
quite  sure,  however,  that  Walkirk  did  not  notice 
my  preoccupation,  for  he  gave  the  same  earnest 
and  interested  attention  to  my  descri23tions  which 
he  had  always  shown,  and  which  made  him  such 
an  agreeable  and  valuable  listener.  Indeed,  his 
manner  put  me  at  my  ease,  because,  on  account  of 
the  wandering  of  my  mind,  his  general  expression 
indicated  that,  if  I  found  it  necessary  to  pause  in 
order  that  I  might  arrange  what  I  should  say  next, 
he  was  very  glad  of  the  opportunity  thus  given 
him  to  reflect  upon  what  I  had  just  said.  He  was 
an  admirable  listener. 


XV. 

HOW  WE  WENT  BACK  TO  GENOA. 

The  next  morning  I  awaited  with  considerable 
perturbation  of  mind  the  arrival  of  my  nun.  I 
felt  assured  that,  after  the  occurrences  of  the  pre- 
vious day,  there  must  certainly  be  some  sort  of  a 
change  in  her.  She  could  not  go  on  exactly  as 
she  had  gone  on  before.  The  nature  of  this  an- 
ticipated change  concerned  me  very  much,  —  too 
much,  I  assured  myself.  Would  she  be  more  rigid 
and  repellent  than  she  had  been  before  the  advent 
of  the  wasp  ?  But  this  would  be  impossible.  On 
the  other  hand,  would  she  be  more  like  other 
people  ?  Would  she  relax  a  little,  and  work  like 
common  secretaries  ?  Or,  —  and  I  whistled  as  I 
thought  of  it,  —  having  once  done  so,  would  she 
permanently  cut  loose  from  the  absurdities  en- 
joined upon  her  by  the  House  of  Martha  people, 
and  look  at  me  and  talk  to  me  in  the  free,  honest, 
ingenuous,  frank,  sincere,  and  thoroughly  sensible 
manner  in  which  she  had  spoken  to  me  the  day  be- 
fore? 

After  revolving  these  questions  in  my  mind  for 
some  time,  another  one  rudely  thrust  itself  upon 
me :  would  she  come  at  all  ?  It  was  already  seven 
minutes  past  nine;   she  had  never  been  so  late. 


78  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA, 

Now  that  I  came  to  think  of  it,  this  would  be  the 
most  natural  result  of  the  wasp  business.  The 
thought  shocked  me.  I  ceased  to  walk  up  and 
down  my  study,  and  stopped  whistling.  I  think 
my  face  must  have  flushed ;  I  know  my  pulse  beat 
faster.  My  eyes  fell  upon  the  body  of  him  who  I 
believed  had  been  my  friend.  I  felt  like  crushing 
his  remains  with  my  fist.  He  had  been  my  enemy ! 
He  had  shown  me  what  I  had  to  lose,  and  he  had 
made  me  lose  it. 

Even  in  the' midst  of  my  agitation  this  thought 
made  me  smile.  How  much  I  was  making  of  this 
affair  of  my  secretary.  What  difference,  after 
all  —  But  I  did  not  continue  the  latter  question. 
It  did  make  a  difference,  and  it  was  of  no  use  to 
reason  about  it.  What  was  I  to  do  about  it?  That 
was  more  to  the  point. 

At  this  instant,  my  nun,  followed  by  Sister 
Sarah,  entered  the  adjoining  room.  The  latter 
merely  bowed  to  me,  went  out,  and  locked  the  door 
behind  her.  I  was  very  glad  she  did  not  speak  to 
me,  for  the  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  produced 
by  the  appearance  of  the  two  would  have  prevented 
my  answering  her  coherently.  I  do  not  know 
whether  my  nun  bowed  or  not.  If  she  did,  the 
motion  was  very  slight.  She  took  her  seat  and 
prepared  for  work.  I  did  not  say  anything,  for  I 
did  not  know  what  to  say.  The  proper  thing  to 
do,  in  order  to  relieve  my  embarrassment  and  hers, 
■ —  that  is,  if  she  had  any,  —  was  to  begin  work  at 
once ;  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  remember 
whether  my  dictation  of  the  day  before  concerned 


HOW  WE  WENT  BACK  TO  GENOA.  79 

Sicily  or  Egypt.  I  did  not  like  to  ask  her,  for 
that  would  seem  like  a  trick  to  make  her  speak. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  keep  her  sitting  there 
with  an  idle  pen  in  her  hand.  I  must  say  some- 
thing, so  I  blurted  out  some  remarks  concerning 
the  effect  of  the  climate  of  the  Mediterranean 
upon  travelers  from  northern  countries ;  and  while 
doing  this  I  tried  my  best  to  remember  where,  on 
the  shores  of  this  confounded  sea,  I  had  been  the 
day  before. 

Philosophizing  and  generalizing  were,  however, 
not  in  my  line :  I  was  accustomed  to  deal  with  ac- 
tion and  definite  observation,  and  I  soon  dropped 
the  climate  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  went  to 
work  on  some  of  the  soul-harrowing  improvements 
in  the  Eternal  City,  alluding  with  particular 
warmth  to  the  banishment  of  the  models  from  the 
Spanish  Stairs.  Now  the  work  went  on  easily, 
but  I  was  gloomy  and  depressed.  My  nun  sat  at 
the  table,  more  like  a  stiff  gray-enveloped  principle 
than  ever  before.  I  did  not  feel  at  liberty  even  to 
make  a  remark  about  the  temperature  of  the  room. 
I  feared  that  whatever  I  said  might  be  construed 
into  an  attempt  to  presume  upon  the  accidental 
intercourse  of  the  day  before. 

For  half  an  hour  or  more  she  went  on  with  the 
work,  but,  during  a  pause  in  my  dictation,  she  sat 
up  straight  in  her  chair  and  laid  down  her  pen. 
Then,  without  turning  her  face  to  me,  she  began 
to  speak.  I  stood  open-mouthed,  and,  I  need  not 
say,  delighted.  Whatever  her  words  might  be,  it 
rejoiced  me  to  hear  them ;  to  know  that  she  volun- 


80  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

tarily  recognized  my  existence,  and  desired  to  com- 
municate with  me. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  Mother  Anastasia,"  she  said, 
her  voice  directed  towards  the  screen  in  the  open 
window,  "  and  I  told  her  that  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  work  without  sometimes  saying  a  few  words 
to  ask  for  what  I  need,  or  to  request  you  to  repeat 
a  word  which  I  did  not  catch.  Since  I  began  to 
write  I  have  lost  no  less  than  twenty-three  words. 
I  have  left  blanks  for  them,  and  made  memoranda 
of  the  pages  ;  but,  as  I  said  to  her,  if  this  sort  of 
thing  went  on,  you  would  forget  what  words  you 
had  intended  to  use,  and  when  you  came  to  read 
the  manuscript  you  could  not  supply  them,  and 
that  therefore  I  was  not  doing  my  work  properly, 
and  honestly  earning  the  money  which  would  be 
paid  to  the  institution.  I  also  told  her  that  you 
sometimes  forgot  where  you  left  off  the  day  before, 
and  that  I  ought  to  read  you  a  few  lines  of  what 
I  had  last  written,  in  order  that  you  might  make 
the  proper  connection.  I  think  this  is  very  neces- 
sary, for  to-day  you  have  left  an  awful  gap.  Yes- 
terday we  were  writing  about  that  old  Crusader's 
bank  in  Genoa,  and  now  you  are  at  work  at  Kome, 
when  we  have  n't  even  started  for  that  city." 

Each  use  of  this  word  "  we  "  was  to  me  like  a 
strain  of  music  from  the  heavens. 

"  Do  you  think  I  did  right  ?  "  she  added. 

"  Right !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Most  assuredly  you 
did.  Nothing  could  be  more  helpful,  and  in  fact 
more  necessary,  than  ,  to  let  me  know  just  where  I 
left  off.     What  did  the  sisters  say  ?  "      ^ 


HOW  WE  WENT  BACK  TO  GENOA.  81 

"  I  spoke  only  to  Mother  Anastasia,"  she  replied. 
"  She  considered  the  matter  a  little  while,  and  then 
said  that  she  could  see  there  must  be  times  when 
you  would  require  some  information  from  me  in 
regard  to  the  work,  and  that  there  could  be  no  rea- 
sonable objection  to  my  giving  such  information  5 
but  she  reminded  me  that  the  laws  of  the  House  of 
Martha  require  that  the  sisters  must  give  their  sole 
attention  to  the  labor  upon  which  they  are  em- 
ployed, and  must  not  indulge,  when  so  engaged,  in 
any  conversation,  even  among  themselves,  that  is 
not  absolutely  necessary." 

"Mother  Anastasia  is  very  sensible,"  said  I, 
"  and  if  I  were  to  see  her,  I  should  be  happy  to  ex- 
press my  appreciation  of  her  good  advice  upon  the 
subject.  And,  by  the  way,  did  she  tell  you  that  it 
was  necessary  to  wear  that  hot  bonnet  while  you 
are  working?" 

"  She  did  not  say  anything  about  it,"  she  an- 
swered ;  "  it  was  not  needful.  We  always  wear 
our  bonnets  outside  of  the  House  of  Martha." 

I  was  about  to  make  a  further  remark  upon  the 
subject,  but  restrained  myself  :  it  was  incumbent  on 
me  to  be  very  prudent.  There  was  a  pause,  and 
then  she  spoke  again. 

"  You  are  not  likely  to  see  Mother  Anastasia," 
she  said,  "  but  please  do  not  say  anything  on  the 
subject  to  Sister  Sarah  ;  she  is  very  rigorous,  and 
would  not  approve  of  talking  under  any  circum- 
stances. In  fact,  she  does  not  approve  of  my  com- 
ing here  at  all." 

"  What  earthly  reason  can  she  have  for  that  ?  " 
I  askedo 


82  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  She  thinks  it 's  nonsensical  for  you  to  have  a 
secretary,"  she  answered,  "  and  that  it  would  be 
much  better  for  you  to  do  your  own  work,  and 
make  a  gift  of  the  money  to  the  institution,  and 
then  I  could  go  and  learn  to  be  a  nurse.  I  only 
mention  these  things  to  show  you  that  it  would  be 
well  not  to  talk  to  her  of  Mother  Anastasia's  good 
sense." 

"  You  may  rest  assured,"  said  I,  "  that  I  shall 
not  say  a  word  to  her." 

"  And  now,'^  said  she,  "  shall  we  put  aside  what 
I  have  written  to-day,  and  go  back  to  Genoa? 
The  last  thing  you  dictated  yesterday  was  this: 
'  Into  this  very  building  once  came  the  old  Cru- 
saders to  borrow  money  for  their  journeys  to  the 
Holy  Land.'  " 

We  went  to  Genoa. 

"  How  admirably,"  I  exclaimed,  when  she  had 
gone,  "  with  what  wonderful  tact  and  skill  she  has 
managed  the  whole  affair!  Not  one  word  about 
the  occurrences  of  yesterday,  not  an  allusion  which 
could  embarrass  either  herself  or  me.  If  only  she 
had  looked  at  me !  But  she  had  probably  received 
instructions  on  that  point  which  she  did  not  men- 
tion, and  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  she  is  honest 
and  conscientious." 

"  But  after  all  it  was  not  necessary  that  I  should 
see  her  face.  I  had  seen  it,  and  I  could  never  for- 
get it. 

Whistling  was  not  enough  for  me  that  day ;  I 
sang. 

"  What  puts   you  into   such   remarkably  good 


HOW  WE  WENT  BACK  TO  GENOA.  83 

spirits  ? "  asked  my  grandmother.  "  Have  you 
reached  an  unusually  interesting  part  of  your 
work?" 

"  Indeed  I  have,"  I  answered,  and  I  gave  her 
such  a  glowing  account  of  the  way  the  Ked  Cross 
Knights,  the  White  Cross  Knights,  and  the  Black 
Cross  Knights  clanked  through  the  streets  of 
Genoa,  before  setting  sail  to  battle  for  the  Great 
Cross,  that  the  cheeks  of  the  old  lady  flushed  and 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  enthusiastic  emotion. 

"  I  don't  wonder  it  kindles  your  soul  to  write 
about  such  things,"  she  said. 


XVI. 

I  RUN  UPON   A  SANDBAR. 

Day  by  day,  the  interest  of  my  nun  in  her  work 
appeared  to  increase.  Every  morning,  so  soon  as 
she  sat  down  at  her  table,  she  read  to  me  the  con- 
eluding  portion  of  what  had  been  written  the  day 
before  ;  and  if  a  Sunday  intervened,  she  gave  me 
a  page  or  more.  Her  interest  was  manifested  in 
various  ways.  Several  times  she  so  far  forgot  the 
instructions  she  must  have  received  as  to  turn  her 
face  towards  me,  when  asking  me  to  repeat  some- 
thing that  she  did  not  catch,  and  on  such  occasions 
I  could  not  for  some  moments  remember  what  I 
had  said,  or  indeed  what  I  was  about  to  say. 

Once  she  stopped  writing,  and,  turning  half 
round  in  her  chair,  looked  fairly  at  me,  and  said 
that  she  thought  I  had  made  a  mistake  in  saying 
that  visitors  were  not  allowed  to  go  up  the  Tower 
of  Pisa  without  a  guide ;  for  she,  with  two  other 
ladies,  had  gone  to  the  top  without  any  one  accom- 
panying them.  But  she  thought  it  was  very  wrong 
to  allow  people  to  do  this,  and  that  I  should  be  do- 
ing a  service  to  travelers  if  I  were  to  say  something 
on  the  subject. 

Of  course  I  replied  that  I  would  make  the  cor- 
rection, and  that  I  would  say  something  about  the 


I  BUN  UPON  A  SANDBAB.  85 

carelessness  to  which  she  referred.  Then  there 
ensued  a  pause,  during  which  she  turned  her  face 
towards  the  window,  imagining,  I  have  no  doubt, 
that  I  was  busy  endeavoring  to  compose  something 
suitable  to  say  upon  the  subject;  but  I  was  not 
thinking  of  anything  of  the  sort.  I  was  allowing 
my  mind  to  revel  in  the  delight  which  I  had  had  in 
looking  at  her  while  she  spoke.  When  her  pen 
began  to  scratch  impatiently  upon  the  paper,  I 
plunged  into  some  sort  of  a  homily  on  the  laxity 
of  vigilance  in  leaning  towers.  But,  even  while 
dictating  this,  I  was  wondering  what  she  would 
look  like  if,  instead  of  that  gray  shawl  and  gown, 
she  were  arrayed  in  one  of  the  charming  costumes 
which  often  make  even  ordinary  young  ladies  so 
attractive. 

As  our  daily  work  went  on,  my  nun  relaxed 
more  frequently  her  proscribed  rigidity,  and  be- 
came more  and  more  like  an  ordinary  person. 
When  she  looked  at  me  or  spoke,  she  always  did 
so  in  such  an  unpremeditated  manner,  and  with 
such  an  obvious  good  reason,  that  I  could  not  de- 
termine whether  her  change  of  manner  was  due  to 
accumulativ"  forgetf ulness,  or  to  a  conviction  that 
it  was  absu  i  to  continue  to  act  a  part  which  was 
not  only  i  Jinatural  under  the  circumstances,  but 
which  positively  interfered  with  the  work  in  hand. 
Some  of  her  suggestions  were  of  the  greatest  ser- 
vice, but  I  fear  that  the  value  of  what  she  said 
was  not  as  fully  appreciated  as  was  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  and  hearing  her  say  it. 

Thus  joyously  passed  the  hours  of  work,  and  in 


86  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

the  hours  when  I  was  not  working  I  looked  for- 
ward with  glad  anticipation  to  the  next  forenoon  ; 
but  after  a  time  I  began  to  be  somewhat  oppressed 
by  the  fear  that  my  work  would  come  to  an  end 
before  long  for  want  of  material.  I  was  already 
nearing  the  southern  limit  of  my  travels,  and  my 
return  northward  had  not  been  productive  of  the 
sort  of  subject-matter  I  desired.  In  my  recitals  to 
Walkirk  I  had  gone  much  more  into  detail  regard- 
ing my  experiences,  and  had  talked  about  a  great 
many  things  which  it  had  been  pleasant  to  talk 
about,  but  which  I  did  not  consider  good  enough 
to  put  into  my  book.  In  dictating  to  my  nun  I 
had  carefully  sifted  the  mass  to  which  Walkirk 
had  listened,  and  had  used  only  such  matter  as  I 
thought  would  interest  her  and  the  general  reader. 
My  high  regard  for  the  intelligence  of  my  secre- 
tary and  her  powers  of  appreciation  had  led  me  to 
discard  too  much,  and  therefore  there  was  danger 
that  my  supply  of  subject-matter  would  give  out 
before  my  nun  grew  to  be  an  elderly  woman ;  and 
this  I  did  not  desire. 

I  had  read  and  heard  enough  of  the  travels  of 
others  to  be  able  to  continue  my  descriptions  of 
foreign  countries  for  an  indefinite  period;  but  I 
had  determined,  from  the  first,  that  nothing  should 
go  into  my  book  except  my  own  actual  experiences, 
and  therefore  I  could  not  rely  upon  other  books 
for  the  benefit  of  mine.  But,  in  considering  the 
matter,  I  concluded  that,  if  my  material  should  be 
entirely  my  own,  it  would  answer  my  purpose  to 
make  that  material  what  I  pleased;  and  thus  it 


I  RUN  UPON  A  SANDBAB.  87 

•happened  that  I  determined  to  weave  a  story  into 
my  narrative.  This  plan,  I  assured  myself,  would 
be  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  design  of  my  work. 
The  characters  could  be  drawn  from  the  people 
whom  I  had  met  in  my  travels.  The  scenes  could 
be  those  which  I  had  visited,  and  the  plot  and 
tone  of  the  story  could  be  made  to  aid  the  reader 
in  understanding  the  nature  of  the  country  and 
the  people  of  which  it  was  told.  More  than  all, 
I  could  make  the  story  as  long  as  I  pleased. 

This  was  a  capital  idea,  and  I  began  immediately 
to  work  upon  it.  I  managed  the  story  very  deftly ; 
at  least  that  was  my  opinion.  My  two  principal 
characters  made  their  appearance  in  Sicily,  and  at 
first  were  so  intermingled  with  scenery  and  inci- 
dents as  not  to  be  very  prominent ;  then  they  came 
more  to  the  front,  and  other  characters  introduced 
themselves  upon  occasion.  As  these  personages 
appeared  and  reappeared,  I  hoped  that  they  would 
gradually  surround  themselves  with  an  interest 
which  would  steadily  increase  the  desire  to  know 
more  and  more  about  them.  Thus,  as  I  went  on, 
I  said  less  and  less  about  Sicily,  and  more  and 
more  about  my  characters,  especially  the  young 
man  and  the  young  woman,  the  curious  blending 
of  whose  lives  I  was  endeavoring  to  depict. 

This  went  on  very  smoothly  for  a  few  days,  and 
then,  about  eleven  o'clock  one  morning,  my  nun 
suddenly  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  laid  down 
her  pen. 

"  I  cannot  write  any  more  of  this,"  she  said, 
looking  out  of  the  window. 


88  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

I  was  so  astonished  that  I  could  scarcely  ask 
her  what  she  meant. 

"  This  is  love-making,"  she  continued,  "  and  with 
love-making  the  sisters  of  the  House  of  Martha 
can  have  nothing  to  do.  It  is  one  of  our  principal 
rules  that  we  must  not  think  about  it,  read  about 
it,  or  talk  about  it ;  and  of  course  it  would  have 
been  forbidden  to  write  about  it,  if  such  a  contin- 
gency had  ever  been  thought  of.  Therefore  I  can- 
not do  any  more  work  of  that  kind." 

In  vain  I  expostulated ;  in  vain  I  told  her  that 
this  was  the  most  important  part  of  my  book ;  in 
vain  I  declaimed  about  the  absurdity  of  such  a 
regulation  ;  in  vain  I  protested ;  in  vain  I  reasoned. 
She  shook  her  head,  and  said  there  was  no  use 
talking  about  it ;  she  knew  the  rules,  and  should 
obey  them. 

I  had  been  standing  near  the  grating,  but  now 
I  threw  myself  into  a  chair,  and  sat  silent,  wonder- 
ing what  I  should  do.  Must  I  give  up  this  most 
admirable  plan  of  carrying  on  my  work,  simply 
because  those  foolish  sisters  had  made  absurd  rules 
for  themselves?  Must  I  wind  up  my  book  for 
want  of  material  ?  Not  for  a  moment  did  I  think 
of  getting  another  secretary,  or  of  selecting  some 
other  sort  of  that  stuff  which  literary  people  call 
padding,  for  the  purpose  of  prolonging  my  pleasant 
labors.  I  was  becoming  interested  in  the  love- 
story  I  had  begun,  and  I  wanted  to  go  on  with  it, 
and  I  believed  also  that  it  would  be  of  great  ad- 
vantage to  my  book ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
was  plain  that  my  nun  would  not  write  this  story, 


I  RUN  UPON  A  SANDBAR.  89 

and  it  was  quite  as  plain  to  me  that  I  could  not 
insist  upon  anything  which  would  cause  her  to 
leave  me. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  she  said  presently,  still  look- 
ing towards  the  window,  "  that  we  had  better  do 
some  sort  of  work  for  the  rest  of  the  morning  ?  It 
is  not  right  for  me  to  sit  here  idle.  Suppose  you 
try  to  supply  some  of  the  words  which  were  left 
out  of  the  manuscript,  in  the  first  days  of  my  writ- 
ing for  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  and,  taking  up  her  memo- 
randa, she  began  to  look  for  the  vacant  spaces 
which  she  had  left  in  the  manuscript  pages.  I 
supplied  very  few  words,  for  to  save  my  life  I  could 
not  at  this  moment  bring  my  mind  to  bear  upon 
such  trifles ;  but  it  was  pretense  of  work,  and  better 
than  embarrassing  idleness.  Before  my  secretary 
left  me  I  must  think  of  something  to  say  to  her  in 
regard  to  the  work  for  to-morrow ;  but  what  should 
I  say  ?  Should  I  tell  her  I  would  drop  the  story, 
or  that  I  would  modify  it  so  as  to  make  it  feasible 
for  her  to  write  ?  Something  must  quickly  be  de- 
cided upon,  and  while  I  was  tumultuously  revolv- 
ing the  matter  in  my  mind  twelve  o'clock  and  the 
sub-mother  came.  My  secretary  went  away,  with 
nothing  but  the  little  bow  which  she  was  accus* 
tomed  to  make  when  leaving  the  room. 


xvn. 

BjiiGARDING     THE      ELUCIDATION      OF      NATIONAL 
CHARACTERISTICS. 

I  WAS  left  in  my  study  in  a  very  unpleasant 
state  of  mind.  I  was  agitated  and  apprehensive. 
Perhaps  that  young  woman  would  not  come  any 
more.  I  had  not  told  her  that  I  was  going  to  stop 
writing  about  love,  and  there  was  every  reason  to 
suppose  she  would  not  return.  What  an  imbecile 
I  had  been !  I  had  done  nothing,  because  I  could 
not  think  of  exactly  the  right  thing  to  do. 

I  now  felt  that  I  must  ask  the  advice  of  some- 
body in  regard  to  this  embarrassing  and  important 
aiifair.  For  a  moment  I  thought  of  my  grand- 
mother, but  she  would  be  sure  to  begin  by  advising 
me  to  change  my  secretary.  She  seldom  urged 
me  to  do  what  I  did  not  want  to  do,  but  if  I  ojffered 
her  a  chance  to  give  me  advice  on  this  occasion  I 
knew  what  would  be  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

So  I  put  on  my  hat  and  went  to  Walkirk,  at  the 
inn.  I  found  him  at  work  on  a  mass  of  accounts, 
dating  back  for  years,  which  I  had  given  him  to 
adjust.  With  great  circumspection  I  laid  before 
him  this  new  affair. 

"  You  see,"  said  I,  "  she  is  a  first-class  secretary. 
She  has  learned  to  do  my  work  as  I  like  it  done, 


NATIONAL  CHABACTEBISTICS.  91 

and  I  do  not  wish  to  make  a  change,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  do  not  care  to  alter  the  plan  of  my 
book." 

Walkirk  was  always  very  respectful,  but  he 
could  not  restrain  a  smile  at  the  situation. 

"  It  does  seem  to  me,"  he  said,  "  a  very  funny 
thing  to  dictate  a  love-story  to  one  of  the  sisters 
of  the  House  of  Martha.  Of  course  they  are  not 
nuns,  they  are  not  even  Roman  Catholics,  but  they 
are  just  as  strict  and  strait-laced  about  certain 
things  as  if  their  house  were  really  a  convent.  So 
far  as  I  can  see,  there  is  but  one  thing  to  do,  and 
that  is  to  confine  yourself  to  descriptions  of  travel ; 
and  perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  let  your  secretary 
know  in  some  way  that  you  intend  to  do  so ;  other- 
wise I  think  she  may  throw  up  the  business,  and 
that  would  be  a  pity." 

It  sometimes  surprises  me  to  discover  what  an 
obstinate  person  I  am.  When  I  want  to  do  a 
thing,  it  is  very  difficult  for  me  to  change  my 
mind. 

"  She  must  not  throw  up  the  business,"  I  said, 
"  and  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  leave  out  the  story. 
I  have  planned  it  far  ahead,  and  to  discard  it  I 
should  have  to  go  back  and  cut  and  mangle  a  great 
deal  of  good  work  that  I  have  done." 

Walkirk  reflected. 

"  I  admit,"  he  replied,  "  that  that  would  be  very 
discouraging.  Perhaps  we  can  think  of  some  plan 
of  getting  out  of  the  difficulty." 

"  I  hope  you  can  do  that,"  said  I,  "  for  I  can- 
not." 


92  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  How  would  this  do  ? "  lie  asked  presently. 
"  Suppose  I  go  and  see  Mother  Anastasia  this  af- 
ternoon, and  try  and  make  her  look  at  this  matter 
from  a  strictly  business  point  of  view.  I  can  tell 
her  that  the  sort  of  thing  you  are  doing  is  purely 
literature,  that  you  can't  keep  such  things  out  of  ^ 
literature,  and  that  the  people  who  engage  in  the 
mechanical  work  of  literature  cannot  help  running 
against  those  things  at  one  time  or  another.  I  can 
try  to  make  her  understand  what  an  advantageous 
connection  this  is,  and  what  a  great  injury  to  the 
House  of  Martha  it  would  be  if  it  should  be  broken 
off.  I  can  tell  her  that  it  is  not  improbable  that 
you  may  take  to  writing  as  a  regular  business,  and 
that  you  may  give  profitable  employment  to  the 
sisters  for  years  and  years.  There  are  a  good 
many  other  things  I  might  say,  and  you  may  be 
sure  I  shall  do  my  very  best." 

"  Go,"  I  said,  "  but  be  very  careful  about  what 
you  say.  Don't  make  her  think  that  I  am  too  anx- 
ious to  retain  this  particular  sister,  but  make  her 
understand  that  I  do  not  wish  to  begin  all  over 
again  with  another  one.  Also,  do  not  insist  too 
strongly  on  my  desire  to  write  a  love-story,  but  put 
it  to  her  that  when  I  plan  out  work  of  course  I 
want  to  do  the  work  as  I  have  planned  it.  Try  to 
keep  these  important  points  in  your  mind ;  then 
you  can  urge  common  sense  upon  her  as  much  as 
you  please." 

I  sent  a  note  to  my  grandmother  saying  that 
I  should  not  be  home  to  luncheon,  and  after  hav- 
ing taken  a  bite  at  the  inn  I  set  out  for  a  long 


NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS.  93 

walk.  It  was  simply  impossible  for  me  to  talk 
about  common  things  until  this  matter  was  settled. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when 
I  returned  to  the  inn,  and  Walkirk  had  not  come 
back.  I  went  away  again,  took  a  turn  through  the 
woods,  and  on  approaching  the  inn  I  saw  him 
walking  down  the  shady  road  which  led  from  the 
House  of  Martha.     I  hurried  to  meet  him. 

So  soon  as  he  was  near  enough,  Walkirk,  with 
a  beaming  face,  called  out :  — 

"  All  right,  sir.  I  have  settled  that  little  mat- 
ter for  you." 

"  How  ?  What  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What  have 
you  done  ?  " 

We  had  now  reached  each  other,  and  stood  to- 
gether by  the  side  of  the  road. 

"  Well,"  said  my  under-study,  "  I  have  seen 
Mother  Anastasia,  and  I  have  found  her  a  very 
sensible  woman,  —  an  admirable  woman,  I  assure 
you.  She  was  a  good  deal  surprised  when  I  told 
her  my  errand,  for  that  was  the  first  she  had  heard 
of  the  love-story  ;  in  fact,  I  suppose  your  secretary 
had  not  had  time  to  tell  her  about  it.  She  com- 
mended the  sister  highly  for  her  refusal  to  write 
it,  saying  that  her  action  was  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  spirit  of  their  rules.  When  she  had  fin- 
ished saying  all  she  had  to  say  on  that  point,  I  pre- 
sented your  side  of  the  question ;  and  I  assure  you, 
sir,  that  I  clapped  on  it  a  very  bright  light,  so  that 
if  she  did  not  see  its  strong  points  the  fault  must 
be  in  her  own  eyes.  As  the  event  proved,  there 
was  nothing  the  matter  with  her  eyes.     I  shall  not 


94  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

try  to  repeat  what  I  said,  but  I  began  by  explain- 
ing to  her  the  nature  of  your  work,  and  showed 
her  how  impossible  it  was  for  you  to  write  about 
foreign  countries  without  referring  to  their  people, 
and  how  you  could  not  speak  of  the  people  with- 
out mentioning  their  peculiar  manners  and  cus- 
toms, and  that  this  story  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  an  interweaving  of  some  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  people  of  Sicily  with  the  descriptions  of  the 
country.  Thus  much  I  inferred  from  your  remarks 
about  the  story. 

"  I  persisted  that,  although  such  characteristics 
had  no  connection  with  the  life  of  the  sisters  of  the 
House  of  Martha,  they  were  a  part  of  the  world 
which  you  were  describing,  and  that  it  could  be  no 
more  harm  for  a  sister,  working  for  wages  and  the 
good  of  the  cause,  to  assist  in  that  description  than 
it  would  be  for  one  of  them  to  make  lace  to  be 
worn  at  a  wedding,  a  ceremony  with  which  the  sis- 
ters could  have  nothing  to  do,  and  which  in  con- 
nection with  themselves  they  could  not  even  think 
about.  This  point  made  an  impression  on  Mother 
Anastasia,  and,  having  thought  about  it  a  minute 
or  two,  she  said  there  was  a  certain  force  in  it. 

"  Then  she  asked  me  if  this  narrative  of  yours 
was  a  strongly  accentuated  love-story.  Here  she 
had  me  at  a  disadvantage,  for  I  have  not  heard  it ; 
but  I  assured  her  that,  knowing  the  scope  and  pur- 
pose of  your  work,  I  did  not  believe  that  you  would 
accentuate  any  portion  of  it  more  than  was  abso- 
lutely necessary. 

"  After  some  silent  consideration,  Mother  Ana- 


NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS.  95 

stasia  said  she  would  go  and  speak  with  the  sister 
who  had  been  doing  your  work.  She  was  gone  a 
good  while,  —  at  least  it  seemed  so  to  me ;  and 
when  she  came  back  she  said  that  she  had  been 
making  inquiries  of  the  sister,  and  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  was  no  good  reason  why  the 
House  of  Martha  should  not  continue  to  assist  you 
in  the  preparation  of  your  book." 

"  Did  she  say  she  would  send  the  same  sister  r  " 
I  asked  quickly. 

"No,  she  did  not,"  answered  Walkirk;  "but 
not  wishing  to  put  the  question  too  pointedly,  I 
first  thanked  her,  on  your  behaK,  for  the  kindly 
consideration  she  had  given  the  matter.  I  then 
remarked  -^^  without  intimating  that  you  said  any- 
thing about  it  —  that  I  hoped  nothing  would  occur 
to  retard  the  progTCss  of  the  work,  and  that  the 
present  arrangement  might  continue  without 
changes  of  any  kind,  because  I  knew  that  when 
you  were  dictating  your  mind  was  completely  ab- 
sorbed by  your  mental  labors,  and  that  any  alter- 
ation in  your  hours  of  work,  or  the  necessity  of 
explaining  your  methods  to  a  new  amanuensis, 
annoyed  and  impeded  you.  To  this  she  replied  it 
was  quite  natural  you  should  not  desire  changes, 
and  that  everything  should  go  on  as  before." 

"  Walkirk,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  are  a  trump !  " 
In  my  exuberant  satisfaction  I  would  have  clapped 
him  on  the  back ;  but  it  would  not  do  to  be  so  fa- 
miliar with  an  under-study,  and  besides  I  did  not 
wish  him  to  understand  the  extent  of  my  delight  at 
the  result  of  his  mission.  That  sort  of  thing  I 
liked  to  keep  to  myself. 


XVIII. 

AN  ILLEGIBLE  WORD. 

Evert  morning  there  seemed  to  be  some  reason 
or  other  why  I  should  anticipate  with  an  animated 
interest  the  coming  of  my  secretary,  and  on  the 
morning  after  what  I  might  call  her  "  strike  "  the 
animation  of  said  interest  was  very  apparent  to 
me,  but  I  hope  not  to  any  one  else.  Over  and 
over  I  said  to  myself  that  I  must  not  let  my  nun 
see  that  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  Walkirk's  in- 
tervention. It  would  be  wise  to  take  the  result  as 
a  matter  of  course. 

As  the  clock  struck  nine,  she  and  Sister  Sarah 
entered  the  anteroom,  and  the  latter  advanced  to 
the  grating  and  looked  into  my  study,  peering 
from  side  to  side.  I  did  not  like  this  sister's  face ; 
she  looked  as  if  she  had  grown  unpleasantly  plump 
on  watered  milk. 

"  Is  it  necessary,"  she  asked,  "  that  you  should 
smoke  tobacco  during  your  working  hours  ?  " 

"  I  never  do  it,"  I  replied  indignantly,  — 
^'  never !  " 

"  Several  times,"  she  said,  "  I  have  thought  I 
perceived  the  smell  of  tobacco  smoke  in  this  sis- 
ter's garments." 

"  You   are    utterly   mistaken !  "    I    exclaimed. 


AN  ILLEGIBLE  WOBD.  97 

"  During  the  hours  of  work  these  rooms  are  per- 
fectly free  from  anything  of  the  sort." 

She  gave  a  little  grunt  and  departed,  and  when 
she  had  locked  the  door  I  could  not  restrain  a 
slight  ejaculation  of  annoyance. 

"  You  must  not  mind  Sister  Sarah,'*  said  the 
sweet  voice  of  my  nun  behind  the  barricade  of  her 
bonnet ;  "  she  is  as  mad  as  hops  this  morning." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  her?"  I  asked,  my 
angry  feelings  disappearing  in  an  instant. 

"  She  and  Mother  Anastasia  have  had  a  long 
discussion  about  the  message  you  sent  in  regard  to 
my  keeping  on  with  the  story.  Sister  Sarah  is 
very  much  opposed  to  my  doing  your  writing  at 
all." 

"  Well,  as  she  is  not  the  head  of  your  House,  I 
suppose  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves  about  that," 
I  replied.  "  But  how  does  the  arrangement  suit 
you?  Are  you  satisfied  to  continue  to  write  my 
little  story?" 

"  Satisfied  !  "  she  said.  "  I  am  perfectly  de- 
lighted ; "  and  as  she  spoke  she  turned  toward  me, 
her  eyes  sparkling,  and  her  face  lighted  by  the 
most  entrancing  smile  I  ever  beheld  on  the  coun- 
tenance of  woman.  "  This  is  a  thousand  times 
more  interesting  than  anything  you  have  done  yet, 
although  I  liked  the  rest  very  much.  Of  course  I 
stopped  when  I  supposed  it  was  against  our  rules 
to  continue ;  but  now  that  I  know  it  is  all  right  I 
am  —  But  no  matter ;  let  us  go  on  with  it.  This 
is  what  I  last  wrote,"  and  she  read :  " '  Tomaso 
and  the  pretty  Lucilla  now  seated  themselves  on 


98  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

the  rock,  by  a  little  spring.  He  was  trying  to 
look  into  her  lovely  blue  eyes,  which  were  slightly 
turned  away  from  him  and  veiled  by  their  long 
lashes.  There  was  something  he  must  say  to 
her,  and  he  felt  he  could  wait  no  longer.  Gently 
he  took  the  little  hand  which  lay  nearest  him, 
and  '  —  There  is  where  I  stopped,"  she  said ;  and 
then,  her  face  still  bright,  but  with  the  smile 
succeeded  by  an  air  of  earnest  consideration,  she 
asked,  "  Do  you  object  to  suggestions  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  >said  I ;  "  when  they  are  to  the 
point,  they  help  me." 

"  Well,  then,"  she  said,  "  I  would  n't  have  her 
eyes  blue.  Italian  girls  nearly  always  have  black 
or  brown  eyes.  It  is  hard  to  think  of  this  girl  as 
a  blonde." 

"  Oh,  but  her  eyes  are  blue,"  I  said  ;  "  it  would 
not  do  at  all  to  have  them  anything  else.  Some 
Italian  girls  are  that  way.  At  any  rate,  I  could  n't 
alter  her  in  my  mind." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  she  replied,  "  but  in  thinking 
about  her  she  always  seems  to  me  to  have  black 
eyes ;  however,  that  is  a  matter  of  no  importance, 
and  I  am  ready  to  go  on." 

Thus,  on  matters  strictly  connected  with  busi- 
ness, my  nun  and  I  conversed,  and  then  we  went 
on  with  our  work.  I  think  that  from  the  very  be- 
ginnings of  literature  there  could  have  been  no 
author  who  derived  from  his  labors  more  absolute 
pleasure  than  I  derived  from  mine :  never  was  a 
story  more  interesting  to  tell  than  the  story  of 
Toraaso  and  Lucilla.     It  proved  to  be  a  very  long 


AN  ILLEGIBLE  WORD.  99 

one,  much  longer  than  I  had  supposed  I  could 
make  it,  and  sometimes  I  felt  that  it  was  due  to 
the  general  character  of  my  book  that  I  should 
occasionally  insert  some  description  of  scenery  or 
instances  of  travel. 

My  secretary  wrote  as  fast  as  I  could  dictate, 
and  sometimes  wished,  I  think,  that  I  would  dic- 
tate faster.  She  seldom  made  comments  unless 
she  thought  it  absolutely  necessary  to  do  so,  but 
there  were  certain  twitches  and  movements  of  her 
head  and  shoulders  which  might  indicate  emotions, 
such  as  pleasant  excitement  at  the  sudden  develop- 
ment of  the  situation,  or  impatience  at  my  delay 
in  the  delivery  of  interesting  passages ;  and  I 
imagined  that  during  the  interpolation  of  descrip- 
tive matter  she  appeared  to  be  anxious  to  get 
through  with  it  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  to  go 
on  with  the  story. 

It  was  my  wish  to  make  my  book  a  very  large 
one;  it  was  therefore  desirable  to  be  economical 
with  the  material  I  had  left,  and  to  eke  it  out  as 
much  as  I  could  with  fiction ;  but  upon  considering 
the  matter  I  became  convinced  that  it  could  not 
be  very  long  before  the  material  which  in  any  way 
could  be  connected  with  the  story  must  give  out, 
and  that  therefore  it  would  have  to  come  to  an 
end.  How  I  wished  I  had  spent  more  time  in 
Sicily  !  I  would  have  liked  to  write  a  whole  book 
about  Sicily. 

Of  course  I  might  take  the  lovers  to  other  coun- 
tries ;  but  I  had  not  planned  anything  of  this  kind, 
and  it  would  require  some  time  to  work  it  out 


100  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

Now,  however,  a  good  idea  occurred  to  me,  which 
would  postpone  the  conclusion  of  the  interesting 
portion  of  my  work.  I  would  have  my  secretary 
read  what  she  had  written.  This  would  give  me 
time  to  think  out  more  of  the  story,  and  it  is  often 
important  that  an  author  should  know  what  he  has 
done  before  he  goes  on  to  do  more.  We  had  ar- 
rived at  a  point  where  the  narrative  could  easily 
stop  for  a  while ;  Tomaso  having  gone  on  a  fishing 
voyage,  and  the  middle-aged  innkeeper,  whose 
union  with  Lucilla  was  favored  by  her  mother  and 
the  village  priest,  having  departed  for  Naples  to 
assume  the  guardianship  of  two  very  handsome 
young  women,  the  daughters  of  an  old  friend,  re- 
cently deceased. 

When  I  communicated  to  my  nun  my  desire  to 
change  her  work  from  writing  to  reading,  she 
seemed  surprised,  and  asked  if  there  were  not  dan- 
ger that  I  might  forget  how  I  intended  to  end  the 
story.  I  reassured  her  on  this  point,  and  she  ap- 
peared to  resign  herself  to  the  situation. 

"  Shall  I  begin  with  the  first  page  of  the  manu- 
script," said  she,  "  or  read  only  what  I  have  writ- 
ten?" 

"  Oh,  begin  at  the  very  beginning,"  I  said.  "  I 
want  to  hear  it  all." 

Then  she  began,  hesitating  a  little  at  times  over 
the  variable  chirography  of  my  first  amanuensis. 
I  drew  up  my  chair  near  to  the  grating,  but  before 
she  had  read  two  pages  I  asked  her  to  stop  for  a 
moment. 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  "  it  will  be  impossible  for  me 


AN  ILLEGIBLE  WORD.  tt)l 

to  get  a  clear  idea  of  what  you  are  reading  unless 
you  turn  and  speak  in  my  direction.  You  see,  the 
sides  of  your  bonnet  interfere  very  much  with  my 
hearing  what  you  say." 

For  a  few  moments  she  remained  in  her  ordinary 
position,  and  then  she  slowly  turned  her  chair 
toward  me.  I  am  sure  she  had  received  instruc- 
tions against  looking  into  my  study,  which  was 
filled  with  objects  calculated  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  an  intelligent  and  cultivated  person.  Then 
she  read  the  manuscript,  and  as  she  did  so  I  said  to 
myself,  over  and  over  again,  that  for  her  to  read  to 
me  was  a  thousand  times  more  agreeable  than  for 
me  to  dictate  to  her. 

As  she  read,  her  eyes  were  cast  down  on  the 
pages  which  she  held  in  her  hand  ;  but  frequently 
when  I  made  a  correction  they  were  raised  to  mine, 
as  she  endeavored  to  understand  exactly  what  I 
wanted  her  to  do.  I  made  a  good  many  alterations 
which  I  think  improved  the  work  very  much. 

Once  she  found  it  utterly  impossible  to  decipher 
a  certain  word  of  the  manuscript.  She  scrutinized 
it  earnestly,  and  then,  her  mind  entirely  occupied 
by  her  desire  properly  to  read  the  matter,  she  rose, 
and  came  close  to  the  grating,  holding  the  page  so 
that  I  could  see  it. 

"  Can  you  make  out  this  word  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I 
cannot  imagine  how  any  one  could  write  so  care- 
lessly." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  stood  close  to  the  grat- 
ing. I  could  not  take  the  paper  from  her,  and  it 
was  necessary  for  her  to  hold  it.     I  examined  the 


•lOi^  TKE.  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

word  letter  by  letter.  I  gave  my  opinion  of  each 
letter,  and  I  asked  her  opinion.  It  was  a  most  il- 
legible word.  A  good  many  things  interfered  with 
my  comprehension  of  it.  Among  these  were  the 
two  hands  with  which  she  held  up  the  page,  and 
another  was  the  idea  which  came  to  me  that  in  the 
House  of  Martha  the  sisters  were  fed  on  violets. 
I  am  generally  quite  apt  at  deciphering  bad  writ- 
ing, but  never  before  had  I  shown  myself  so  slow 
and  obtuse  at  this  sort  of  thing. 

Suddenly  a  thought  struck  me.  I  glanced  at 
the  clock  in  my  study.  It  wanted  ten  minutes  of 
twelve. 

"  It  must  be,"  said  I,  "  that  that  word  is  intended 
to  be  '  heaven-given,'  —  at  any  rate,  we  will  make 
it  that ;  and  now  I  think  I  will  get  you  to  copy  the 
last  part  of  that  page.  You  can  do  it  on  the  back 
of  the  sheet." 

She  was  engaged  in  this  writing  when  Sister 
Sarah  came  in. 


XIX. 

GRAY  ICE. 

During  the  engagement  of  my  present  secretary, 
a  question  had  frequently  arisen  in  my  mind,  which 
I  wished  to  have  answered,  but  which  I  had  hesi- 
tated to  ask,  for  fear  the  sister  should  imagine  it 
indicated  too  much  personal  interest  in  her.  This 
question  related  to  her  name,  and  now  it  was  really 
necessary  for  me  to  know  it.  I  did  not  wish  any 
longer  to  speak  to  her  as  if  she  were  merely  a  prin- 
ciple; she  had  become  a  most  decided  entity. 
However  harsh  and  gray  and  woolly  her  name 
might  be,  I  wanted  to  know  it  and  to  hear  it  from 
her  own  lips.  The  next  morning  I  asked  her  what 
it  was. 

She  was  sitting  at  the  table  arranging  the  pages 
she  was  going  to  read,  and  at  the  question  she 
turned  toward  me.  Her  face  was  flushed,  but  not, 
I  think,  with  displeasure. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  it  has  seemed  to  me 
the  funniest  thing  in  the  world  that  you  have  never 
cared  the  least  bit  to  know  my  name." 

"  I  did  care,"  I  replied,  "  in  fact  it  was  awkward 
not  to  know  it ;  but  of  course  I  did  not  want  to  — 
Interfere  in  any  way  with  the  rules  of  your  estab- 
lishment." 


104  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  I  have  noticed  your  extreme 
solicitude  in  regard  to  our  rules,  but  there  is  no 
rule  against  telling  our  names.  Mine  is  Sister  Ha- 
gar." 

"  Hagar !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  You  do  not  mean 
that  is  your  real  name  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  name  given  me  by  the  House  of  Mar- 
tha," she  answered.  "  There  is  a  list  of  names  by 
which  the  sisters  must  be  called,  and  as  we  enter 
the  institution  we  take  the  names  in  their  order  on 
the  list.     Hagar  came  to  me." 

"  I  shall  not  call  you  by  that,"  said  I,  "  and  we 
may  as  well  go  on  with  our  work." 

I  was  anxious  to  have  her  read,  and  to  forget 
that  she  was  called  Hagar. 

She  was  a  long  time  arranging  the  manuscript 
and  putting  the  pages  in  order.  I  did  not  hurry 
her,  but  I  could  not  see  any  reason  for  so  much 
preparation.  Presently  she  said,  still  arranging 
the  sheets,  and  with  her  head  bent  slightly  over 
her  work :  "  I  don't  know  whether  or  not  I  ought 
to  tell  you,  but  I  dislike  to  be  called  Hagar.  The 
next  name  on  the  list  is  Rebecca,  and  I  am  willing 
to  take  that,  but  the  rules  of  the  House  do  not  al- 
low us  to  skip  an  unappropriated  name,  and  permit 
no  choosing.  However,  Mother  Anastasia  has  not 
pressed  the  matter,  and,  although  I  am  entered  as 
Sister  Hagar,  the  sisters  do  not  caU  me  by  that 
name." 

"  What  do  they  call  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  simply  use  the  name  that  was  mine 
before  I  entered  the  House  of  Martha,"  said  she. 


GBAT  ICE.  105 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  "  I  asked  quickly. 

"  Ah,"  said  my  nun,  pushing  her  sheets  into  a 
compact  pile,  and  thumping  their  edges  on  the  ta- 
ble to  make  them  even,  "  to  talk  about  that  would 
be  decidedly  against  the  rules  of  the  institution ; 
—  and  now  I  am  ready  to  read." 

Thus  did  she  punish  me  for  what  she  considered 
my  want  of  curiosity  or  interest ;  I  knew  it  as  well 
as  if  she  had  told  me  so.  I  accepted  the  rebuff 
and  said  no  more,  and  she  went  on  with  her  read- 
ing. 

On  this  and  the  following  day  I  became  aware 
how  infinitely  more  pleasant  it  was  to  listen  than  to 
be  listened  to,  —  at  least  under  certain  circum- 
stances. I  considered  it  wonderfully  fortunate  to 
be  able  to  talk  to  such  an  admirable  listener  as 
Walkirk :  but  to  sit  and  hear  my  nun  read ;  to 
watch  the  charming  play  of  her  mouth,  and  the  oc- 
casional flush  of  a  smile  when  she  came  to  some- 
thing exciting  or  humorous  ;  to  look  into  the  blue 
of  her  eyes,  as  she  raised  them  to  me  while  I  con- 
sidered an  alteration,  was  to  me  an  overwhelming 
rapture,  —  I  could  call  it  nothing  less.  But  by  the 
end  of  the  third  morning  of  reading  my  good  sense 
told  me  that  this  sort  of  thing  could  not  go  on,  and 
it  would  be  judicious  for  me  to  begin  again  my  dic- 
tation, and  to  let  my  secretary  confine  herself  to 
her  writing.  The  fact  that  on  any  morning  I  had 
not  allowed  her  to  read  until  the  hour  of  noon  was 
an  additional  proof  that  my  decision  was  a  wise 
one. 

The  story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla  now  went 


106  TBE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

bravely  on,  with  enough  groundwork  of  foreign 
land  for  the  characters  to  stand  on,  and  I  tried 
very  hard  to  keep  my  mind  on  the  writing  of  my 
book  and  away  from  its  writer.  Outwardly  I  may 
have  appeared  to  succeed  fairly  well  in  this  pur- 
pose, but  inwardly  the  case  was  different.  How- 
ever, if  I  could  suppress  any  manifestations  of  my 
emotions,  I  told  myself,  I  ought  to  be  satisfied. 

A  few  mornings  after  the  recommencement  of 
the  dictation  I  was  a  little  late  in  entering  my 
study,  and  I  found  my  secretary  already  at  the  ta- 
ble in  the  anteroom.  In  answer  to  my  morning 
salutation  she  merely  bowed,  and  sat  ready  for 
work.  She  did  not  even  offer  to  read  what  she 
had  last  written.  This  surprised  me.  Was  she 
resenting  what  she  might  look  upon  as  undue  stiff- 
ness and  reserve  ?  If  so,  I  was  very  sorry,  but  at 
the  same  time  I  would  meet  her  on  her  own  ground. 
If  she  chose  to  return  to  her  old  rigidity,  I  would 
accept  the  situation,  and  be  as  formal  as  she  liked. 

More  than  this,  I  began  to  feel  a  little  resent- 
ment. I  would  revert  not  only  to  my  former  man- 
ner, but  to  my  former  matter.  I  would  wind  up 
that  love-story,  and  confine  myself  to  the  subject 
of  foreign  travel. 

Acting  on  this  resolution,  I  made  short  work  of 
Tomaso  and  LuciUa.  The  former  determined  not 
to  think  of  marriage  until  he  was  several  years 
older,  and  had  acquired  the  necessary  means  to 
support  a  wife ;  and  LuciUa  accepted  the  advice  of 
her  mother  and  the  priest,  and  obtained  a  situation 
in  a  lace-making  establishment  in  Venice,  where 


GBAY  ICE.  107 

she  resolved  to  work  industriously  until  the  middle- 
aged  innkeeper  had  made  up  his  mind  whether  or 
not  he  would  marry  one  of  the  handsome  girls  to 
whom  he  had  become  guardian. 

To  this  very  prosaic  conclusion  of  the  love-story 
I  added  some  remarks  intended  as  an  apology  for 
introducing  such  a  story  into  my  sketches  of  travel, 
and  showing  how  the  little  narrative  brought  into 
view  some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  people  of 
Sicily.  After  that  I  discoursed  of  the  present 
commerce  of  Italy  as  compared  with  that  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

My  secretary  took  no  notice  whatever  of  my 
change  of  subject,  but  went  on  writing  as  I  dic- 
tated. This  apathy  at  last  became  so  annoying  to 
me  that,  excusing  myself,  I  left  my  study  before 
the  hour  of  noon. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  how  the  events, 
or  rather  the  want  of  events,  of  that  morning  dis- 
turbed my  mind.  By  turns  I  was  angry,  I  was 
grieved,  I  was  regretful,  I  was  resentful.  It  is  so 
easy  sometimes  for  one  person,  with  the  utmost 
placidity,  to  throw  another  person  into  a  state  of 
mental  agitation  ;  and  this  I  think  is  especially 
noticeable  when  the  placid  party  is  a  woman. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  my  disquiet  of  mind  and 
body  and  general  iU  humor  did  not  abate,  and, 
wishing  that  other  people  should  not  notice  my 
unusual  state  of  mind,  I  took  an  early  afternoon 
train  to  the  city ;  leaving  a  note  for  Walkirk,  in- 
forming him  that  his  services  as  listener  would  not 
be  needed  that  evening.     The  rest  of  that  day  I 


108  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

spent  at  my  club,  where,  fortunately  for  my  mood, 
I  met  only  a  few  old  fellows  who  could  not  get  out 
of  town  in  the  summer,  and  who  had  learned,  from 
long  practice,  to  be  quite  sufficient  unto  themselves. 
Seated  in  a  corner  of  the  large  reading-room,  I 
spent  the  evening  smoking,  holding  in  my  hand  an 
unread  newspaper,  and  asking  myself  mental  ques- 
tions. 

I  inquired  why  in  the  name  of  common  sense  I 
allowed  myself  to  be  so  disturbed  by  the  conduct 
of  an  amanuensis,  paid  by  the  day,  and,  moreover, 
a  member  of  a  religious  order.  I  inquired  why 
the  fates  should  have  so  ordered  it  that  this  per- 
fectly charming  young  woman  should  suddenly 
have  become  frozen  into  a  mass  of  gray  ice.  I  in- 
quired if  I  had  inadvertently  done  or  said  any- 
thing which  would  naturally  wound  the  feelings  or 
arouse  the  resentment  of  a  sister  of  the  House  of 
Martha.  I  inquired  if  there  could  be  any  reason- 
able excuse  for  a  girl  who,  on  account  of  an  omis- 
sion or  delay  in  asking  her  name,  would  assume  a 
manner  of  austere  rudeness  to  a  gentleman  who 
had  always  treated  her  with  scrupulous  courtesy. 
Finally  I  asked  myself  why  it  was  that  I  persisted, 
and  persisted,  and  persisted  in  thinking  about  a 
thing  like  this,  when  my  judgment  told  me  that  I 
should  instantly  dismiss  the  whole  affair  from  my 
mind,  and  employ  my  thoughts  on  something  sen- 
sible ;  and  to  this  I  gave  the  only  answer  which  I 
made  to  any  of  the  inquiries  I  had  put  to  myseK. 
That  was  that  I  did  not  know  why  this  was  so,  but 
it  was  so,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it. 


GEAY  ICE.  109 

Walking  home  from  the  station  quite  late  at 
night,  the  question  which  had  so  much  troubled  me 
suddenly  resolved  itself,  and  I  became  convinced 
that  the  change  in  the  manner  of  my  secretary  was 
due  to  increased  pressure  of  the  rules  of  the  House 
of  Martha.  I  would  not,  I  could  not,  believe  that 
a  fit  of  pique,  occasioned  by  my  apparent  want  of 
interest  in  her,  could  make  her  thus  cold  and  even 
rude.  She  was  not  the  kind  of  girl  to  do  this  thing 
of  her  own  volition.  It  was  those  wretched  rules ; 
and  if  they  were  to  be  enforced  in  this  way,  the 
head  of  the  House  of  Martha  should  know  that  I 
considered  the  act  a  positive  discourtesy,  if  nothing 
more. 

I  was  angry,  —  that  was  not  to  be  wondered  at ; 
but  it  was  a  great  relief  to  me  to  feel  that  I  need 
not  be  angry  with  my  secretary. 


XX. 

TOMASO   AND  I. 

The  next  day  my  amanuensis  bade  me  good- 
morning  in  her  former  pleasant  manner,  but  with- 
out turning  toward  me  seated  herself  quickly  at 
the  table,  and  took  the  manuscript  from  the 
drawer.  "  Oh,  ho !  "  I  thought,  "  then  you  can 
speak ;  and  it  was  not  the  rules  which  made  you 
behave  in  that  way,  but  your  own  pique,  which 
has  worn  off  a  little."  I  glanced  at  her  as  she  in- 
tently looked  over  the  work  of  the  day  before,  and 
I  was  considering  whether  or  not  it  would  be  fit- 
ting for  me  to  show  that  there  might  be  pique  on 
one  side  of  the  grating  as  well  as  on  the  other, 
when  suddenly  my  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a 
burst  of  laughter,  —  girlish,  irrepressible  laughter. 
With  the  manuscript  in  her  hands,  my  nun  actually 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed  so  heartily 
that  I  wonder  my  grandmother  did  not  hear  her. 

"  I  declare,"  she  said,  turning  to  me,  her  eyes 
glistening  with  tears  of  merriment,  "  this  is  the 
funniest  thing  I  ever  saw.  Why,  you  have  actu- 
ally separated  those  poor  lovers  for  life,  and 
crushed  every  hope  in  the  properest  way.  And 
then  all  the  rest  about  commerce!  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  you  could  do  it." 


TOMASO  AND  I.  Ill 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  You 
showed  no  surprise  when  you  wrote  it." 

Again  she  laughed. 

"  Wrote  it !  "  she  cried.  "  I  never  wrote  a  line 
of  it.  It  was  Sister  Sarah  who  was  your  secretary 
yesterday.     Did  n't  you  know  that  ?  " 

I  stood  for  a  moment  utterly  unable  to  answer ; 
then  I  gasped,  "  Sister  Sarah  wrote  for  me  yester- 
day !     What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Positively,"  said  she,  pushing  back  her  chair 
and  rising  to  her  feet,  "  this  is  not  only  the  fun- 
niest, but  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world. 
Do  you  mean  truly  to  say  that  you  did  not  know 
it  was  Sister  Sarah  who  wrote  for  you  yester- 
day?" 

"I  did  not  suspect  it  for  an  instant,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"  It  was,  it  was  I  "  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her 
hands  in  her  earnestness,  and  stepping  closer  to 
the  grating.  "  When  we  came  here  yesterday,  and 
found  you  were  not  in  your  room,  a  sudden  idea 
struck  her.  '  I  will  stay  here  myself,  this  morning,' 
she  said,  '  and  do  his  writing.  I  want  to  know 
what  sort  of  a  story  this  is  that  is  being  dictated 
to  a  sister  of  our  House ; '  and  so  she  simply  turned 
me  out  and  told  me  to  go  home.  You  don't  know 
how  frightened  I  was.  I  was  afraid  that,  as  we 
dress  exactly  alike,  you  might  not  at  first  notice 
that  Sister  Sarah  was  sitting  at  the  table,  and  that 
you  might  begin  with  an  awfully  affectionate 
speech  by  Tomaso  ;  for  I  knew  that  something  of 
that  kind  was  just  on  the  point  of  breaking  out, 


112  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

and  I  knew  toe  tliat  if  you  did  it  there  would  be 
lively  times  in  the  House  of  Martha,  and  perhaps 
here  also.  I  fairly  shivered  the  whole  morning, 
and  my  only  hope  was  that  she  would  begin  to 
snap  at  you  as  soon  as  you  came  in,  and  you  would 
then  know  whom  you  had  to  deal  with,  and  that 
you  would  have  to  put  a  lot  of  water  into  your 
love-making  if  you  wanted  any  more  help  from  the 
sisters.  But  if  I  had  known  that  you  would  not 
find  out  that  she  was  writing  for  you,  I  should 
certainly  have  died.  I  couldn't  have  stood  it. 
But  how  in  the  world  could  you  have  kept  on 
thinking  that  that  woman  was  I  ?  She  is  shorter 
and  fatter,  and  not  a  bit  like  me,  except  in  her 
clothes ;  and  if  you  thought  I  was  writing  for  you, 
why  did  you  dictate  that  ridiculous  stuff  ?  " 

I  stood  confounded.  Here  were  answers  to  de- 
vise. 

"  Of  course  the  dress  deceived  me,"  I  said  pres- 
ently, "  and  not  once  did  she  turn  her  face  toward 
me ;  besides,  I  did  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that 
any  one  but  you  could  be  sitting  at  that  table." 

"  But  I  cannot  understand  why,"  she  pursued, 
"if  you  didn't  know  it  was  Sister  Sarah,  you 
made  that  sudden  change  in  your  story." 

For  a  moment  I  hesitated,  and  then  I  saw  I 
might  as  well  speak  out  honestly.  When  a  man 
sees  before  him  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  like  those  which 
were  then  fixed  upon  me,  the  chances  are  that  he 
will  speak  out  honestly. 

"  The  fact  is,"  I  said,  "  that  I  'm  a  little  —  well, 
sensitive  ;  and  when  you,  or  the  person  I  thought 


TOMASO  AND  I.  113 

was  you,  did  not  speak  to  me,  nor  look  at  me, 
nor  pay  any  more  heed  to  me  than  if  I  had  been  a 
talking-machine  worked  with  a  crank,  I  was  some- 
what provoked,  and  determined  that  if  you  sud- 
denly chose  to  freeze  in  that  way  I  would  freeze 
too,  and  that  you  should  have  no  more  of  that 
story  in  which  you  were  so  interested ;  and  so  I 
smashed  the  loves  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla  and  took 
up  commerce,  which  I  was  sure  you  would  hate." 

At  this  there  was  a  quick  flash  in  her  eyes,  and 
the  first  tremblings  of  a  smile  at  the  corners  of  her 
mouth. 

"  Oh  ! "  she  said,  and  that  was  all  she  did  say, 
as  she  returned  to  the  table  and  took  her  seat. 

"  Is  my  explanation  satisfactory  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  she  answered ;  "  and  if  you 
will  excuse  me  for  saying  so,  I  think  you  are  a 
very  fortunate  man.  In  trying  to  punish  me  you 
protected  yourself,  —  that  is,  if  you  care  to  have 
secretaries  from  our  institution." 

As  I  could  not  see  her  face,  I  could  not  deter- 
mine what  answer  I  should  make  to  this  remark, 
and  she  continued,  as  she  turned  over  the 
sheets :  — 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  pages 
which  were  written  yesterday  ?  " 

"Tear  them  up,"  I  replied,  "and  throw  them 
into  the  basket.    I  wish  to  annihilate  them  utterly." 

She  obeyed  me,  and  tore  Sister  Sarah's  work 
into  very  small  pieces. 

"Now  we  will  go  on  with  the  original  and  gen- 
uine story,"  I  said.     "  And  as  the  occurrences  of 


114  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

yesterday  are  entirely  banished  from  my  mind,  and 
as  all  recollection  of  the  point  where  we  left  off 
has  gone,  will  you  kindly  read  two  or  three  pages 
of  what  you  last  wrote  ?  " 

Several  times  I  had  perceived,  or  thought  I  had 
perceived,  symptoms  of  emotion  in  the  back  of  my 
secretary's  shawl,  and  these  symptoms,  if  such  they 
were,  were  visible  now.  She  occupied  some  min- 
utes in  selecting  a  suitable  point  at  which  to  begin, 
but  when  she  had  done  this  she  lead  without  any 
signs  of  emotion,  either  in  her  shawl  or  in  her  face. 

The  story  of  the  Sicilian  young  people  progressed 
slowly,  not  because  of  any  lack  of  material,  but  be- 
cause I  was  anxious  to  portray  the  phases  as  clearly 
and  as  effectively  as  I  could  possibly  do  it ;  and 
whenever  I  could  prevent  myself  from  thinking  of 
something  else,  I  applied  my  mind  most  earnestly 
to  this  object.  I  flatter  myself  that  I  did  the  work 
very  well,  and  I  am  sure  there  were  passages  the 
natural  fervor  of  which  would  have  made  Sister 
Sarah  bounce  at  least  a  yard  from  her  chair,  had 
they  been  dictated  to  her,  but  my  nun  did  not 
bounce  in  the  least. 

Before  the  hour  at  which  we  usually  stopped 
work  I  arose  from  my  chair,  and  stated  that  that 
would  be  all  for  the  day.  My  secretary  looked  at 
me  quickly. 

"  All  for  to-day  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little  smile  of 
disapprobation  upon  her  brow.  "  It  cannot  be 
twelve  o'clock  yet." 

"  No,"  I  answered,  "  it  is  not ;  but  it  is  not  easy 
to  work  out  the  answer  which  Lucilla  ought  now 


TOMASO  AND  I.  115 

to  make  to  Tomaso,  and  I  shall  have  to  take  time 
for  its  consideration." 

"  I  should  n't  think  it  would  be  easy,"  said  she^ 
"  but  I  hoped  you  had  it  already  in  your  mind." 

"  Then  you  are  interested  in  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  she  answered,  —  "  who 
would  n't  be  ?  And  just  at  this  point,  too,  when 
everything  depends  on  what  she  says ;  but  it  is 
quite  right  for  you  to  be  very  careful  about  what 
you  make  her  say,"  and  she  gathered  her  sheets 
together  to  lay  them  away. 

Now  I  wanted  to  say  something  to  her.  I 
stopped  work  for  that  purpose,  but  I  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  An  apology  for  my  conduct  of  the 
day  before  would  not  be  exactly  in  order,  and  an 
explanation  of  it  would  be  exceedingly  difficult.  I 
walked  up  and  down  my  study,  and  she  continued 
to  arrange  her  pages.  When  she  had  put  them 
into  a  compact  and  very  neat  little  pile,  she  opened 
the  table  drawer,  placed  them  in  it,  examined  some 
other  contents  of  the  drawer,  and  finally  closed  it, 
and  sat  looking  out  of  the  window.  After  some 
minutes  of  this  silent  observation,  she  half  turned 
toward  me,  and  without  entirely  removing  her  gaze 
from  the  apple-tree  outside,  she  asked :  — 

"  Do  you  still  want  to  know  my  name  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do !  "  I  exclaimed,  stepping  quickly 
to  the  grating. 

"  Well,  then,"  she  said,  "it  is  Sylvia." 

At  this  moment  we  heard  the  footsteps  of  Sister 
Sarah  in  the  hall,  at  least  two  minutes  before  the 
usual  time. 


116  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

When  they  had  gone,  I  stood  by  my  study  table, 
my  arms  folded  and  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor. 

"Horace  Vanderley,"  I  said  to  myself,  "you 
are  in  love ; "  and  to  this  frank  and  explicit  state- 
ment I  answered,  quite  as  frankly,  "  That  is  cer- 
tainly true ;  there  can  be  no  mistake  about  it." 


XXI. 

LUCILLA    AND  I. 

A  Saturday  afternoon,  evening,  and  night,  the 
whole  of  a  Sunday  and  its  night,  with  some  hours 
of  a  Monday  morning,  intervened  between  the  mo- 
ment at  which  I  had  acknowledged  to  myself  my 
feelings  toward  my  secretary  and  the  moment  at 
which  I  might  expect  to  see  her  again,  and  nearly 
the  whole  of  this  time  was  occupied  by  me  in  en- 
deavoring to  determine  what  should  be  my  next 
step.  To  stand  still  in  my  present  position  was 
absolutely  impossible :  I  must  go  forward  or  back- 
ward. To  go  backward  was  a  simple  thing  enough ; 
it  was  like  turning  round  and  jumping  down  a 
precipice ;  it  made  me  shudder.  To  go  forward 
was  like  climbing  a  precipice  with  beetling  crags 
and  perpendicular  walls  of  ice. 

The  first  of  these  alternatives  did  not  require 
any  consideration  whatever.  To  the  second  I  gave 
all  the  earnest  consideration  of  which  I  was  capa- 
ble, but  I  saw  no  way  of  getting  up.  The  heights 
were  inaccessible. 

In  very  truth,  my  case  was  a  hard  one.  I  could 
not  make  love  to  a  woman  through  a  grating  ;  and 
if  I  could,  I  would  not  be  dishonorable  enough  to 
do  it,  when  that  woman  was  locked  up  in  a  room. 


118  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

and  could  not  get  away  in  case  she  did  not  wish  to 
listen  to  my  protestations.  But  between  the  girl  I 
loved  and  myself  there  was  a  grating  compared 
with  which  the  barrier  in  the  doorway  of  my  study 
was  as  a  spider's  web.  This  was  the  network  of 
solemn  bars  which  surrounded  the  sisters  of  the 
House  of  Martha,  —  the  vows  they  had  made  never 
to  think  of  love,  to  read  of  it  or  speak  of  it. 

To  drop  metaphors,  it  would  be  impossible  for 
me  to  continue  to  work  with  her  and  conceal  my 
love  for  her;  it  would  be  stupidly  useless,  and 
moreover  cowardly,  to  declare  that  love ;  and  it 
would  be  sensible,  praiseworthy,  and  in  every  way 
advantageous  for  me  to  cease  my  literary  labors 
and  go  immediately  to  the  Adirondacks  or  to 
Mount  Desert.  But  would  I  go  away  on  Saturday 
or  Sunday  when  she  was  coming  on  Monday? 
Not  I. 

She  came  on  Monday,  surrounded  by  a  gray 
halo,  which  had  begun  to  grow  as  beautiful  to  my 
vision  as  the  delicate  tints  of  early  dawn.  When 
she  began  to  read  what  she  had  last  written,  I 
seated  myself  in  a  chair  by  the  grating.  When 
she  had  finished,  I  sat  silent  for  a  minute,  got  up 
and  walked  about,  came  back,  sat  down,  and  was 
silent  again.  In  my  whole  mind  there  did  not 
seem  to  be  one  crevice  into  which  an  available 
thought  concerning  my  travels  could  squeeze  it- 
seK.  She  sat  quietly  looking  out  of  the  window 
at  the  apple-tree.     Presently  she  said  ;  — 

"  I  suppose  you  find  it  hard  to  begin  work  on 
Monday  morning,  after  having  rested  so  long.     It 


LUCILLA  AND  L  119 

must  be  difficult  to  get  yourseK  again  into  the 
proper  frame  of  mind." 

"  On  this  Monday  morning,"  I  answered,  "  I 
find  it  very  hard  indeed." 

She  turned,  and  for  the  first  time  that  day  fixed 
her  eyes  upon  me.  She  did  not  look  well ;  she 
was  pale. 

*'I  had  hoped,"  she  said,  with  a  little  smile 
without  any  brightness  in  it,  "  that  you  would 
finish  the  story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla ;  but  I  don't 
believe  you  feel  like  composing,  so  how  would  you 
like  me  to  read  this  morning?  " 

"  Nothing  could  suit  me  better,"  I  answered ; 
and  in  my  heart  I  thought  that  here  was  an  angelic 
gift,  a  relief  and  a  joy. 

"  I  will  begin,"  she  said,  "  at  the  point  where  I 
left  off  reading."  She  took  up  a  portion  of  the 
manuscript,  she  brought  her  chair  within  a  yard 
of  the  grating,  she  sat  down  with  her  face  toward 
me,  and  she  read.  Sometimes  she  stopped  and 
spoke  of  what  she  was  reading,  now  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion, and  now  to  tell  something  she  had  seen  in  the 
place  I  described.  I  said  but  little.  I  did  not 
wish  to  occupy  any  of  that  lovely  morning  with 
my  words,  —  words  which  were  bound  to  mean 
nothing.  As  she  read  and  talked,  some  color  came 
into  her  face ;  she  looked  more  like  herself.  What 
a  shame  to  shut  up  such  a  woman  in  a  House 
where  she  never  had  anything  interesting  to  talk 
about,  never  anybody  interested  to  talk  to  ! 

After  the  reading  of  half  a  dozen  pages  during 
which  she  had  not  interrupted  herself,  she  laid  the 


120  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

manuscript  in  her  lap,  and  asked  me  the  time.  I 
told  her  it  wanted  twenty  minutes  of  twelve.  She 
made  no  answer,  but  rose,  put  the  manuscript  in 
the  drawer,  and  then  returned  with  a  little  note 
which  she  had  taken  from  her  pocket. 

"  Mother  Anastasia  desired  me  to  give  you  this," 
she  said,  folding  it  so  that  she  could  push  it  through 
one  of  the  interstices  of  the  grating ;  "  she  told  me 
to  hand  it  to  you  as  I  was  coming  away,  but  I 
don't  think  she  would  object  to  your  reading  it  a 
little  before  tl\at." 

I  took  the  note,  unfolded  it,  and  read  it.  Mo- 
ther Anastasia  wrote  an  excellent  hand.  She  in- 
formed me  that  it  had  been  decided  that  the  sister 
of  the  House  of  Martha  who  had  been  acting  as 
my  amanuensis  should  not  continue  in  that  posi- 
tion, but  should  now  devote  herself  to  another 
class  of  work.  If,  however,  I  desired  it,  another 
sister  would  take  her  place. 

I  stood  unable  to  speak.  I  must  have  been  as 
pale  as  the  white  paint  on  the  door-frame  near 
which  I  stood. 

"  You  see,"  said  Sylvia,  and  from  the  expression 
upon  her  face  I  think  she  must  have  perceived  that 
I  did  not  like  what  I  had  read,  "  this  is  the  work 
of  Sister  Sarah.  I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  at 
once,  and  I  am  sure  there  is  no  harm  in  my  doing 
so.  She  has  always  objected  to  my  writing  for 
you ;  and  although  the  morning  she  spent  with  you 
would  have  satisfied  any  reasonable  person  that 
there  could  be  no  possible  objection  to  my  doing 
it,  she  has  not  ceased  to  insist  that  I  shall  give  it 


LUCILLA  AND  I.  121 

up,  and  go  to  the  Measles  Refuge.  That,  however, 
I  will  not  do,  but  I  cannot  come  here  any  more. 
Mother  Anastasia  and  I  are  both  sure  that  if  I  am 
not  withdrawn  from  this  work  she  will  make  no 
end  of  trouble.  She  has  consented  that  I  should 
go  on  until  now  simply  because  this  day  ends  my 
month." 

I  was  filled  with  amazement,  grief,  and  rage. 

"  The  horrible  wretch  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What 
malignant  wickedness !  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Sylvia,  holding  up  one  finger,  "  you 
must  n't  talk  like  that  about  the  sister.  She  may 
think  she  is  right,  but  I  don't  see  how  she  can ; 
and  perhaps  she  would  have  some  reason  on  her 
side  if  she  could  see  me  standing  here  talking 
about  her,  instead  of  attending  to  my  work.  But 
I  determined  that  I  would  not  go  away  without 
saying  a  word.  You  have  always  been  very  cour- 
teous to  us,  and  I  don't  see  why  we  should  not  be 
courteous  to  you." 

*'  Are  you  sorry  to  go  ? "  I  asked,  getting  as 
close  to  the  grating  as  I  could.  "  If  they  would 
let  you,  would  you  go  on  writing  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  go  on  with  the  work,"  she 
said ;  "  it  is  just  what  I  like." 

"  Too  bad,  too  bad  !  "  I  cried.  "  Cannot  it  be 
prevented?  Cannot  I  see  somebody?  You  do 
not  know  how  much  I  —  how  exactly  you  "  — 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Sylvia,  "  for  interrupting 
you,  but  what  time  is  it  ?  " 

I  glanced  at  the  clock.  "  It  wants  four  minuter 
of  twelve,"  I  gasped. 


122  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  Then  I  must  bid  you  good-by,"  she  said. 

"  Good-by  ?  "  I  repeated.  "  How  can  you  bid 
me  good-by  ?  Confound  this  grating !  Is  n't  that 
door  open  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  it 's  locked.  Do  you  want 
to  shake  hands  with  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do  !  "  I  cried.  "  Good-by  like 
this!     It  cannot  be." 

"  I  think,"  she  said  quickly,  "  that  if  you  could 
get  out  of  your  window,  you  might  come  to  mine 
and  shake  hands." 

What  a  scintillating  inspiration  !  What  a  girl ! 
I  had  not  thought  of  it!  In  a  moment  I  had 
bounded  out  of  my  window,  and  was  standing 
under  hers,  which  was  not  four  feet  from  the 
ground.  There  she  was,  with  her  beautiful  white 
hand  already  extended.  I  seized  it  in  both  of 
mine. 

"  Oh,  Sylvia,"  I  said,  "  I  cannot  have  you  go  in 
this  way.  I  want  to  tell  you  —  I  want  to  tell  you 
how"  — 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  interrupted,  endeavor- 
ing slightly  to  withdraw  her  hand,  "  and  when  the 
story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla  is  finished  and  printed 
I  am  going  to  read  it,  rules  or  no  rules." 

"  It  shall  never  be  finished,"  I  exclaimed  vehe= 
mently,  "  if  you  do  not  write  it,"  and,  lifting  her 
hand,  I  really  believe  I  was  about  to  kiss  it,  when 
with  a  quick  movement  she  drew  it  from  me. 

"  She  is  coming,"  she  said ;  "  good-by !  good- 
by  !  "  and  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  she  was  gone 
from  the  window. 


LUCILLA  AND  I.  123 

I  did  not  return  to  my  study.  I  stood  by  the 
side  of  the  house,  with  my  fists  clenched  and  my 
eyes  set.  Then,  suddenly,  I  ran  to  the  garden 
wall ;  looking  over  it,  I  saw,  far  down  the  shaded 
village  sti-eet,  two  gray  figures  walking  away. 


xxn. 

I   CLOSE  MY  BOOK. 

By  the  rarest  good  fortune  my  grandmotlier 
started  that  afternoon  for  a  visit  to  an  old  friend 
at  the  seashore,  and,  in  the  mild  excitement  of  her 
departure,  I  do  not  think  she  noticed  anything 
unusual  in  my  demeanor. 

"  And  so  your  amanuensis  has  left  you  ?  "  she 
remarked,  as  she  was  eating  a  hasty  luncheon. 
"  Sister  Sarah  stopped  for  a  moment  and  told  me 
so.  She  said  there  was  another  one  ready  to  take 
the  place,  if  you  wanted  her." 

I  tried  to  suppress  my  feelings,  but  I  must  have 
spoken  sharply. 

"  Want  her !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  want  none  of 
her!" 

My  grandmother  looked  at  me  for  a  moment. 

"  I  shall  be  sorry,  Horace,"  she  said,  "  if  you 
find  that  the  sisters  do  not  work  to  suit  you.  I 
hoped  that  you  might  continue  to  employ  them, 
because  the  House  of  Martha  is  at  such  a  con- 
venient distance,  and  offers  you  such  a  variety  of 
assistance  to  choose  from;  and  also  because  you 
would  contribute  to  a  most  worthy  cause.  You 
know  that  all  the  money  they  may  make  is  to  go 
to  hospitals  and  that  sort  of  thing." 


I  CLOSE  MY  BOOK.  125 

"  I  was  a  little  afraid,  however,"  she  continued, 
after  a  pause,  "  that  the  sister  you  engaged  might 
not  suit  you.  She  was  so  much  younger  than  the 
others  that  I  feared  that,  away  from  the  restraints 
of  the  institution,  she  might  be  a  little  frivolous. 
Was  she  ever  frivolous  ?  " 

"Not  in  the  least,"  I  answered;  "not  for  an 
instant." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  she  remarked,  — 
"  very  glad  indeed.  I  take  an  interest  in  that  sis- 
ter. Years  ago  I  knew  her  family,  but  that  was 
before  she  was  bom.  I  remember  that  I  was  in- 
tending to  speak  to  you  about  her,  but  in  some 
way  I  was  interrupted." 

"  Well,"  I  asked,  "  tell  me  now,  who  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  is,"  said  my  grandmother,  "  Sister  Hagar, 
of  the  House  of  Martha.  She  was  Sylvia  Raynor, 
of  New  Haven.  I  think  that  in  some  way  her  life 
has  been  darkened.  Mother  Anastasia  takes  a 
great  interest  in  her,  and  favors  her  a  good  deal. 
I  know  there  was  opposition  to  her  entering  the 
House,  but  she  was  determined  to  do  it.  You  say 
you  are  not  going  to  engage  another  sister  ?  Who 
is  to  be  your  amanuensis  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  I  answered.  "  I  shall  stop  writing 
for  the  present.  This  is  a  very  good  time.  I  've 
nearly  reached  the  end  of  —  a  sort  of  division  of 
the  book." 

"  An  excellent  idea,"  said  my  grandmother,  with 
animation.  "  You  ought  to  go  to  the  sea  or  the 
mountains.  You  have  been  working  very  hard. 
You  are  not  looking  well." 


126  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  I  shall  go,  I  shall  go,"  I  answered  quickly ; 
"fishing,  probably,  but  I  can't  say  where.  I'll 
write  to  you  as  soon  as  I  decide." 

"  Now  that  is  very  pleasant,"  said  my  grand- 
mother, as  she  rose  from  the  table,  "  very  pleasant 
indeed;  and  if  you  write  that  you  will  be  away 
fishing  for  a  week  or  two,  I  shall  stay  at  the  Brom- 
leys'  longer  than  I  intended,  —  perhaps  until  you 
return." 

"  A  week  or  two !  "  I  muttered  to  myself. 

Walkirk  had'  sharper  eyes  than  those  of  my 
grandmother.  I  am  sure  that  when  he  came  that 
evening  he  saw  immediately  that  something  was 
the  matter  with  me,  —  something  of  moment.  He 
was  a  man  of  too  much  tact  to  allude  to  my  state 
of  mind ;  but  in  a  very  short  time  I  saved  him  all 
the  trouble  of  circumspection,  for  I  growled  out 
that  I  could  not  talk  about  travels  at  present,  and 
then  told  him  that  I  could  not  write  about  them, 
either,  for  I  had  lost  my  secretary.  His  counte- 
nance exhibited  much  concern. 

"  But  you  can  get  another  of  the  sisters,"  he 
said. 

What  I  replied  to  this  I  do  not  remember,  but 
I  know  I  expressed  myself  so  freely,  so  explicitly, 
and  with  such  force  that  Waikirk  understood  very 
well  that  I  wanted  the  secretary  I  had  lost,  that  I 
wanted  none  other,  and  that  I  wanted  her  very 
much  indeed.  In  fact,  he  comprehended  the  situ- 
ation perfectly. 

I  was  not  sorry.  I  wanted  somebody  to  whom 
I  could  talk  about  the  matter,  in  whom  I  could 


I  CLOSE  MY  BOOK.  127 

confide.     In  ten  minutes  I  was  speaking  to  Wal- 
kirk  in  perfect  confidence. 

"  But  you  can't  do  anything,"  said  he,  when 
there  came  a  pause.  "  This  is  a  case  in  which 
there  is  nothing  to  do.  My  advice  is  that  you  go 
away  for  a  time,  and  try  to  get  over  it." 

"  I  am  going  away,"  I  replied. 

"You  could  do  nothing  better,"  Walkirk  re- 
marked. "I  am  altogether  in  favor  of  that,  al- 
though of  course  such  counsel  is  against  my  own 
interests." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  I,  catching  his  meaning,  "  for 
I  shall  take  you  with  me." 

After  a  considerable  pause  in  the  conversation 
Walkirk  inquired  if  I  had  decided  where  I  would 
go. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  "  that  is  your  affair.  My 
desire  is  to  get  away  from  every  place  where  there 
is  any  chance  of  seeing  a  woman.  I  wish  to  oblit- 
erate from  my  mind  all  idea  of  the  female  human 
being.  In  fact,  I  think  I  should  like  to  take  lodg- 
ings near  a  monastery,  and  have  the  monks  come 
and  write  for  me,  —  a  different  one  every  day." 

Walkirk  smiled.  "  Since  you  wish  me  to  select 
your  retreat,"  he  said,  "  I  am  bound  to  have  an 
opinion  regarding  it.  I  might  advise  a  visit  to  the 
Trappists  of  Kentucky,  or  to  some  remote  fishing 
and  hunting  region ;  but  it  strikes  me  that  a  back- 
ground made  up  of  exclusive  association  with  men 
would  be  very  apt  to  bring  out  in  strong  relief  any 
particular  female  image  which  you  might  have  in 
your  mind.     I  should  say  that  the  best  way  of  get- 


128  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

ting  rid  of  such  an  image  would  be  to  merge  it  in 
a  lot  of  other  female  images." 

"  Away  with  the  idea  !  "  I  cried.  "  Walkirk, 
I  will  neither  merge  nor  relieve.  I  will  go  with 
you  to  some  place  where  we  shall  see  neither  men 
nor  women;  where  we  can  hunt,  fish,  sail,  sleep, 
read,  smoke,  and  banish  the  world.  I  don't  wish 
you  to  take  a  servant.  We  can  do  without  ser- 
vice, and  if  necessary  I  can  cook.  I  put  the  whole 
matter  in  your  hands,  Walkirk,  and  when  you 
have  decided  on  our  destination  let  me  know." 

The  next  afternoon  Walkirk  found  me  at  my 
club  in  the  city,  and  informed  me  that  he  had 
selected  a  place  which  he  thought  would  suit  my 
purposes. 

"  No  people?  "  I  asked. 

"  None  but  ourselves,"  replied  he. 

"  Very  good,"  said  I.     "  When  can  we  start  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  ready  to-morrow  afternoon,"  he  an- 
swered, "  and  I  will  call  for  you  at  your  house." 


XXIII. 

RACKET  ISLAND. 

We  traveled  aU  night,  and  early  in  the  morning 
alighted  at  a  small  station,  on  the  shore  of  a  broad 
bay.  Here  we  found  moored  a  cat-rigged  sailboat, 
of  which  Walkirk  took  possession,  and  we  stowed 
therein  the  valises,  guns,  and  fishing  tackle  which 
we  had  brought  with  us.  I  examined  the  craft 
with  considerable  interest.  It  was  about  twenty 
feet  long,  had  a  small  cabin  divided  into  two  com- 
partments, and  appeared  to  be  well  stocked  with 
provisions  and  other  necessaries. 

"  Is  it  to  be  a  long  cruise  ?  "  I  said  to  Walkirk ; 
"  and  do  you  know  how  to  sail  a  boat  ?  " 

"  With  this  wind,'*  he  answered,  "  we  should 
reach  our  destination  in  a  couple  of  hours,  and  I 
consider  myseK  a  very  fair  skipper." 

"  Up  sail,  then,"  I  cried,  "  and  I  am  not  in  the 
least  hurry  to  know  where  I  am  going." 

Walkirk  sailed  a  boat  very  well,  but  he  did  it 
in  rather  an  odd  way,  as  if  he  had  learned  it  all 
out  of  a  book,  and  never  had  handled  a  tiller  be- 
fore. I  am  not  a  bad  amateur  sailor  myself,  but 
I  gave  no  consideration  to  the  management  of  our 
craft.  Walkirk  had  said  that  he  knew  where  he 
was  going,  and  was  able  to  sail  there,  and  I  left 


130  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

the  matter  entirely  to  him;  and  whether  or  not 
this  were  his  first  essay  in  sailing,  in  due  time  we 
ran  upon  a  low  beach,  and  he  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Here  we  are !  " 

I  rose  to  my  feet  and  looked  about  me.  "  Now, 
then,"  said  I,  "  I  shall  ask  you,  where  are  we  ?  " 

"  This  is  Kacket  Island,"  he  replied,  "  and  as 
soon  as  we  get  the  boat  pulled  up  and  the  sail 
down  I  will  tell  you  about  it." 

"  Kacket  Island,"  said  Walkirk,  a  short  time 
afterwards,  as  we  stood  together  on  a  little  sandy 
bluff,  "  was  discovered  two  years  ago  by  me  and  a 
friend,  as  we  were  sailing  about  in  this  bay.  I  sup- 
pose other  people  may  have  discovered  it  before, 
but  as  I  have  seen  no  proof  of  this  I  am  not  bound 
to  believe  it.  We  named  it  Racket  Island,  having 
found  on  the  beach  an  old  tennis  racket,  which 
had  been  washed  there  by  the  waves  from  no  one 
knows  where.  The  island  is  not  more  than  half 
a  mile  long,  with  a  very  irregular  coast.  The 
other  end  of  it,  you  see,  is  pretty  well  wooded. 
We  stayed  here  for  three  days,  sleeping  in  our 
boat ;  and  so  far  as  solitude  is  concerned,  we  might 
as  well  have  been  on  a  desert  island  in  the  midst 
of  the  Pacific.  Now  I  propose  that  we  do  the 
same  thing,  and  stay  for  three  days,  or  three  weeks, 
or  as  long  as  you  please.  This  is  the  finest  season 
of  the  year  for  camping  out,  and  we  can  moor  the 
boat  securely,  and  cook  and  sleep  on  board  of  it. 
There  is  plenty  of  sand  and  there  is  plenty  of 
shade,  and  I  hope  you  will  like  it." 

"I  do ! "  I  cried.  " On  Racket  Island  let  us 
settle!'' 


BACKET  ISLAND.  131 

For  two  days  I  experienced  a  sort  of  negative 
enjoyment.  If  I  could  not  be  at  home  dictating  to 
my  late  secretary,  or,  better  still,  looking  at  her,  as 
she  sat  close  to  the  grating,  reading  to  me,  this  was 
the  next  best  thing  I  could  do.  I  could  walk  over 
the  island  ;  I  could  sail  around  it ;  I  could  watch 
Walkirk  fish ;  I  could  lie  on  the  sand,  and  look  at 
the  sky  ;  and  I  could  picture  Sylvia  vdth  her  hair 
properly  arranged,  and  attired  in  apparel  suited  to 
her.  In  my  fancy  I  totally  discarded  the  gray 
garb  of  the  sisters  of  the  House  of  Martha,  and 
dressed  my  nun  sometimes  in  a  light  summer  robe, 
with  a  broad  hat  shading  her  face,  and  again  in 
the  richest  costumes  of  silks  and  furs.  Sometimes 
"Walkii'k  interrupted  these  pleasant  reveries,  but 
that,  of  course,  was  to  be  expected. 

In  several  directions  we  could  see  points  of  land, 
but  it  did  not  interest  me  to  know  what  these  were, 
or  how  far  away  they  were.  Walkirk  and  I  had 
Racket  Island  to  ourselves.  My  grandmother  was 
happy  with  her  friends,  and  where  the  rest  of  the 
world  happened  to  stow  themselves  I  did  not  care. 
Several  times  I  said  this  to  myself,  but  it  was  a 
mistake.  I  cared  very  much  where  Sylvia  stowed 
herseK.  Philosophize  as  I  might,  I  thought  of  her 
continually  in  that  doleful  House  of  Martha ;  and 
as  I  thought  of  her  there  I  cried  out  against  the 
shortcomings  of  civilization. 

We  had  pitched  a  smaU  tent  in  the  shelter  of  a 
clump  of  trees  on  the  higher  part  of  the  island ; 
and  near  this,  on  the  morning  of  our  third  day,  I 
was  sitting,  smoking,  and  trying  the  effect  of  Syl- 


132  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

via's  face  under  a  wide  black  hat  heavy  with  os- 
trich plumes,  when  Walkirk  approached  me,  carry- 
ing a  string  of  freshly  caught  fish. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  said  he,  "  that  in  coming 
here  to  escape  the  society  of  women  we  have  made 
a  failure,  for  one  of  them  is  sitting  on  the  beach, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  island." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  with  an  abrupt  exclamation. 

"  How  did  the  woman  get  here  ?  "  I  cried.  "  I 
thought  this  place  was  deserted." 

"  It  is ;  I  kno^  every  inch  of  it.  No  one  lives 
here,  but  this  female  person  came  in  a  small  sail- 
boat. I  saw  it  tied  up,  not  far  from  where  she  is 
sitting." 

"  If  women  come  here,"  I  said,  "  I  want  to  go, 
and  you  may  as  well  get  ready  to  leave." 

"  I  think,"  remarked  Walkirk,  "  that  it  would 
be  well  not  to  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  leave. 
I  know  of  no  place  where  we  are  less  likely  to  be 
disturbed,  and  so  long  as  these  dry  nights  con- 
tinue there  can  be  no  pleasanter  camping  place. 
She  may  now  be  sailing  away,  and  the  chances  are 
we  shall  never  see  her  again." 

"  I  '11  go  and  look  into  the  matter,"  said  I. 

I  walked  over  the  ridge  of  the  little  island,  and 
soon  caught  sight  of  a  female  figure  sitting  on  the 
sandy  beach.  Near  by  was  the  boat  which  Wal- 
kirk had  mentioned.  As  soon  as  I  saw  her  I 
stopped ;  but  she  must  have  heard  my  approach, 
for  she  turned  toward  me.  I  had  come  merely  to 
make  an  observation  of  her,  but  now  I  must  go  on. 
As  I  approached  her  I  turned  as  if  I  were  about 


RACKET  ISLAND.  133 

to  walk  along  the  shore,  and  as  I  passed  her  I 
raised  my  hat.  She  was  a  lady  of  middle  age,  of 
a  reddish  blonde  complexion,  and  her  hair  was 
negligently  put  up  under  a  plain  straw  hat.  Her 
large  blue  eyes,  her  slightly  uplifted  brows,  and 
the  general  expression  of  her  rather  thin  face  gave 
me  the  idea  that  she  was  a  pleasantly  disposed 
woman,  who  was  either  very  tired  or  not  in  good 
health. 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  she  said.  "  On  desert  isl- 
ands, you  know,  people  speak  to  each  other  without 
ceremony." 

I  stopped,  and  returned  her  salutation.  "Ex- 
cuse me,"  I  remarked,  "  but  this  does  not  seem  to 
be  a  desert  island.  May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  if 
it  is  a  place  of  much  resort  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  may,"  she  answered.  "  People 
sometimes  come  here  ;  but  would  you  like  it  better 
if  they  did  not?  You  need  not  answer;  I  know 
you  would." 

This  was  a  very  free  and  easy  lady,  but  if  she 
liked  that  mood  it  suited  me  very  well. 

"  Since  you  will  have  it,"  I  replied,  "  I  will  ad- 
mit I  came  here  because  I  thought  my  companion 
and  I  would  have  the  island  to  ourselves." 

"  And  now  you  are  disappointed,"  she  said,  with 
a  smile. 

She  was  surely  a  person  of  very  pleasant  humor. 

"  Good  lady,"  said  I,  "  you  must  not  corner  me. 
I  came  here  because  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
place  in  which  to  stop  awhile  and  grumble  undis- 
turbed ;  and  as  you  say  it  is  proper  to  be  uncere- 


134  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

monious,  may  I  ask  how  you  happen  to  be  here, 
and  if  you  sail  your  boat  yourself?  " 

"  I  am  here,"  she  answered,  "  because  I  like  this 
island.  I  take  an  interest  in  it  for  two  reasons : 
one  is  that  it  is  a  good  island,  and  the  other  is  that 
I  own  it." 

"  Really !  "  I  exclaimed,  in  sudden  embarrass- 
ment, "  you  must  pardon  me  !  I  assure  you  I  did 
not  know  that." 

"  Don't  apologize,"  she  said,  raising  her  hand. 
"  Scarcely  any  one  knows,  or  at  least  remembers, 
that  I  own  this  island.  I  bought  it  a  good  many 
years  ago,  intending  to  build  upon  it ;  but  it  was 
considered  too  remote  from  the  mainland,  and  I 
have  established  a  summer  home  on  the  island 
which  you  can  just  see,  over  there  to  the  west ; 
so  this  island  is  perfectly  free  to  respectable  seek- 
ers after  solitude  or  fish.  I  may  add  that  I  do  not 
sail  my  boat,  but  came  here  this  morning  with  my 
brother  and  another  gentleman.  They  have  now 
gone  up  the  beach  to  look  for  shells." 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  feel  that  I  am  an  intruder; 
but  to  assure  you  that  I  am  a  respectable  one, 
allow  me  to  introduce  myself,"  and  I  presented 
my  card. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile,  as 
she  gently  waved  back  my  card  ;  "  we  don't  do  that 
sort  of  thing  here ;  as  far  as  possible  we  omit  all 
ordinary  social  customs.  We  come  here  to  rid 
ourselves,  for  a  time,  of  manners  and  customs. 
My  other  island  is  called  the  '  Tangent,'  because 
there  we  fly  off  from  out  accustomed  routine  of  life. 


BACKET  ISLAND.  135 

We  dress  as  we  please,  and  we  live  as  we  please. 
We  drop  all  connection  with  society  and  its  con- 
ventions. We  even  drop  the  names  by  which  so- 
ciety knows  us.  I  am  known  as  the  '  Lady  Who 
Sits  on  the  Sand,'  commonly  condensed  to  the 
'  Sand  Lady.'  My  brother,  who  spends  most  o£ 
his  time  in  his  boat,  is  the  '  Middle- Aged  Man  o£ 
the  Sea,'  and  his  scientific  friend  is  the  'Shell 
Man.'  When  we  have  stayed  on  the  Tangent  as 
long  as  the  weather  and  our  pleasure  induce  us, 
we  return  to  our  ordinary  routine  of  life.  Now,  if 
you  have  any  title  which  is  characteristic  of  you,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  hear  it,  as  well  as  that  of  your 
companion.  We  consider  ourselves  capable  of 
forming  unbiased  opinions  in  regard  to  what  is 
generally  known  as  respectability." 

It  struck  me  as  a  very  satisfactory  thing  to  look 
upon  this  pleasant  lady  solely  and  simply  as  a  hu- 
man being.  It  is  so  seldom  that  we  meet  any  one 
who  can  be  looked  upon  in  that  light. 

"  Madam,"  I  said,  "  I  greatly  like  your  plan  for 
putting  yourselves  out  of  the  world  for  a  time,  but 
I  find  it  difficult  properly  to  designate  myself." 

"  Oh,  anything  will  do,"  she  said ;  "  for  instance, 
your  reason  for  desiring  to  seclude  yourself." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  I,  "  you  may  call  me  a 
'  Lover  in  Check.'  " 

"  Excellent !  "  she  exclaimed,  —  "  just  the  sort 
of  person  for  this  place;  and  what  is  the  other 
one?" 

"  Oh,  he  is  an  Understudy,"  I  replied. 

"  Delightful,"  she  said ;  "  I  never  saw  one.  And 
here  come  my  brother  and  the  Shell  Man." 


136  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

I  was  now  introduced  formally  by  my  new  title 
to  the  Middle- Aged  Man  of  the  Sea,  a  hearty  per- 
sonage, with  a  curling  beard,  and  to  the  Shell 
Man,  who  was  tall,  and  wore  spectacles. 

When  my  presence  was  explained,  the  brother 
was  as  cordial  as  the  lady  had  been,  and  proffered 
any  assistance  which  I  might  need  during  my  so- 
journ on  the  island.  When  they  took  their  leave, 
the  Sand  Lady  urged  me  to  inhabit  her  island  as 
long  as  I  pleased,  and  hoped  that  I  and  the  Under- 
study would  sometimes  sail  over  to  them,  and  see 
what  it  was  to  be  on  a  Tangent.  At  this  I  shook 
my  head,  and  they  all  laughed  at  me ;  but  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  they  were  people  of  very  friendly 
dispositions. 

When  I  reported  my  interview  to  Walkirk,  he 
remarked,  "  It  is  impossible  to  get  away  from 
people,  but  in  all  probability  these  folks  will  not 
come  here  again." 

"Perhaps  not,"  I  answered,  and  dropped  the 
subject. 


XXIV. 

THE  INTERPOLATION. 

"  They  did  not  seem  in  the  least  surprised  to 
find  us  here,"  I  said  to  Walkirk,  as  we  were  eat- 
ing our  dinner. 

"  Who  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Oh,  the  people  who  came 
over  this  morning  ?  Quite  likely  they  saw  us  when 
we  were  sailing  this  way.  We  passed  their  island 
at  no  great  distance.  There  is  no  reason  why  they 
should  object.  Your  soft  hat  and  flannel  shirt 
would  not  prevent  them  from  seeing  that  you  were 
a  gentleman." 

I  nodded,  and  sat  silent  for  a  time. 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  suppose  we  sail  over  to 
those  people  this  afternoon?  It  might  be  inter- 
esting." 

"  Very  good,"  he  answered,  turning  suddenly  to 
watch  a  sea  gull,  which  had  made  a  great  swoop 
toward  us,  as  if  attracted  by  the  odors  of  our  meal ; 
"  that  will  be  an  excellent  thing  to  do." 

In  making  our  way,  that  afternoon,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Tangent,  our  course  was  not  mathemati- 
cally correct,  for  the  wind  did  not  favor  us,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  sail  in  a  right  line ;  but  the  sun 
was  still  high  when  we  reached  the  larger  island, 
and  made  the  boat  fast  to  a  little  pier. 


138  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

This  island  was  much  more  attractive  than  the 
one  on  which  we  were  camping.  The  ground  re- 
ceded from  the  beach  in  rolling  slopes  covered  with 
short  grass,  and  here  and  there  were  handsome 
spreading  trees.  On  a  bluff,  a  few  hundred  yards 
from  the  pier,  stood  a  low,  picturesque  house,  al- 
most surrounded  by  a  grove.  The  path  to  the 
house  was  plainly  marked,  and  led  us  along  the 
face  of  a  little  hill  to  a  jutting  point,  where  it 
seemed  to  make  an  abrupt  turn  upward.  As  we 
rounded  this  point,  we  saw  on  a  rocky  ledge  not 
far  ahead  of  us  a  lady  dressed  in  white.  She 
was  standing  on  the  ledge,  looking  out  over  the 
water,  and  apparently  very  much  engaged  with  her 
own  thoughts,  for  she  had  not  yet  perceived  our 
approach. 

At  the  first  glance  I  saw  that  the  figure  before 
us  was  not  the  Sand  Lady.  This  was  a  tall  and 
graceful  woman,  carrying  no  weight  of  years.  She 
held  her  hat  in  her  hand,  and  her  dark  hair  was 
slightly  blown  back  from  a  face  which,  seen  in 
profile  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  appeared  to  me 
to  be  perfect  in  its  outline.  We  stopped  involun- 
tarily, and  at  that  moment  she  turned  toward  us. 
Her  face  was  one  of  noble  beauty,  with  great  dark 
eyes,  and  a  complexion  of  that  fine  glow  which 
comes  to  women  who  are  not  quite  brunettes. 

Walkirk  started,  and  seized  my  arm.  ''  Good 
heavens,"  he  whispered,  "  it  is  Mother  Anastasia !  " 

As  we  now  advanced  toward  the  lady,  I  could 
scarcely  believe  what  I  had  heard;  certainly  I 
could  not  comprehend  it.     Here  was  one  of  the 


THE  INTERPOLATION.  139 

most  beautiful  women  I  had  ever  beheld,  dressed 
in  a  robe  of  soft  white  flannel,  which,  though  sim- 
ple, was  tasteful  and  elegant.  She  had  a  bunch 
of  wild  flowers  in  her  belt,  and  at  her  neck  a  bow 
of  dark  yellow  ribbon.  I  particularly  noticed 
these  points,  in  my  amazement  at  hearing  Wal- 
kirk  say  that  this  was  the  Mother  Superior  of  the 
House  of  Martha. 

As  we  approached,  she  greeted  us  pleasantly, 
very  much  as  if  she  had  expected  our  coming,  and 
then,  addressing  Walkirk,  she  said,  with  a  smile : 

"  I  see,  sir,  that  you  recognize  me,  and  I  sup- 
pose you  are  somewhat  surprised  to  find  me  here, 
and  thus,"  glancing  at  her  dress. 

"  Surprised,  madam !  "  exclaimed  Walkirk.  "  I 
am  astounded." 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  that  sort  of  thing  will  hap- 
pen occasionally.  The  people  on  this  island  have 
been  expecting  a  visit  from  you  gentlemen,  but  I 
really  do  not  know  where  any  of  them  are.  It  is 
not  always  easy  to  find  them,  but  I  will  go  and  see 
if  the  Sand  Lady  is  in  the  house,  and  if  so  I  will 
tell  her  of  your  arrival.  Of  course,"  she  contin- 
ued, now  turning  to  me,  "  you  both  will  remember 
that  in  this  place  we  put  ourselves  outside  of  a  good 
many  of  the  ordinary  conventions,  and  are  known 
by  our  characteristics  instead  of  our  names." 

I  assured  her  we  understood  this,  and  considered 
it  an  admirable  idea. 

"  As  you,  sir,"  turning  to  Walkirk,  "  have  met 
me  before,  I  will  immediately  state  that  I  am 
known  on  this  island  only  as  the  '  Interpolation.'  " 


140  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

She  turned  to  walk  toward  the  house,  but 
stopped.  "  We  are  all  here  to  enjoy  ourselves, 
and  it  is  against  the  rules  to  worry  each  other  with 
puzzles.  I  therefore  will  at  once  say,  in  explana^ 
tion  of  my  name,  that  I  have  briefly  thrust  myself 
into  the  life  of  my  friends ;  and  of  my  appearance, 
that  the  Middle- Aged  Man  of  the  Sea,  who  is  a 
very  self-wiUed  person,  caused  the  costume  which 
I  ordinarily  wear,  and  in  which  I  arrived,  to  be 
abstracted  and  hidden,  so  that  I  am  obliged,  while 
here,  to  wear  dothes  belonging  to  others.  Now, 
you  see,  Mr.  Understudy,  everything  is  as  plain  as 
daylight." 

"  They  have  been  talking  about  us,"  I  remarked, 
as  the  lady  rapidly  walked  away,  "  and  of  course, 
having  recognized  you,  she  must  know  who  I  am." 

"  Know  you  ?  There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  he  an- 
swered. "  She  must  have  seen  you  often  in  the  vil- 
lage, although  you  may  never  have  noticed  her." 

"  I  certainly  never  have,"  said  I ;  "in  fact,  I 
make  it  a  point  not  to  look  under  the  bonnets  of 
those  gray-garbed  women." 

"  When  you  meet  them  in  the   street  ? "   he 


"  Yes,"  I  replied. 

"  She  knows  us  both,"  said  Walkirk,  "  and  she 
has  now  gone  to  the  house  to  tell  the  people  who 
we  are ;  and  yet  I  am  surprised  that  she  met  us  so 
serenely.  She  could  not  possibly  have  known  that 
the  two  men  on  that  little  island  were  her  neigh- 
bors in  the  village  of  Arden." 

I  made  no  answer.     I  was  strangely  excited.     I 


THE  INTEBPOLATION.  141 

had  flown  to  an  uninhabited  island  to  get  away 
from  Sylvia,  and,  if  my  conscience  could  be  made 
to  work  properly,  to  get  away  from  aU  thoughts  of 
her ;  and  here  I  had  met,  most  unexpectedly  and 
suddenly,  with  one  who  was  probably  the  most 
intimate  connection  of  the  girl  from  whom  I  was 
flying.  I  was  amazed;  my  emotion  thriUed  me 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  It  is  just  like  women,"  remarked  Walkirk,  as 
we  slowly  walked  toward  the  house,  "to  put  on 
disguises  to  conceal  their  identities,  but  they  have 
no  respect  for  our  identities.  Without  doubt,  at 
this  moment  Mother  Anastasia  is  telling  the  lady 
of  the  house  all  about  you  and  your  grandmother, 
your  position  in  society,  and  the  manner  in  which 
you  were  furnished  with  a  secretary  from  the  House 
of  Martha." 

Still  I  did  not  reply.  "  Mother  Anastasia !  " 
I  said  to  myself.  "  Here  is  a  gray-garbed  sister 
transformed  into  a  lovely  woman.  Why  should 
not  another  sister  be  so  transformed  ?  Why  should 
not  Sylvia  be  here,  in  soft  white  raiment,  with 
flowers  and  a  broad  hat  ?  If  one  can  be  thus,  why 
not  the  other  ?  "     The  possibility  fevered  me. 

We  found  the  mistress  of  the  house  —  the  same 
who  was  called  the  Sand  Lady  —  upon  a  piazza. 
Her  demeanor  had  been  pleasant  enough  when  we 
had  seen  her  before,  but  now  she  greeted  us  as 
cordially  as  if  we  had  been  old  friends.  It  was 
plain  enough  that  Mother  Anastasia  had  told  her 
all  about  us.  Her  brother  and  the  Shell  Man  were 
also  there,  and  the  first  was  friendly  and  the  latter 


142  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

polite.  The  Mother  Superior  was  on  the  piazza, 
but  keeping  a  little  in  the  background,  as  if  she  felt 
that  she  had  had  her  turn. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Lover  in  Check  and  Mr.  Un- 
derstudy," said  the  Sand  Lady,  "I  present  you 
with  the  freedom  of  this  island,  as  I  have  already 
presented  you  with  the  freedom  of  the  other.  If 
what  we  happen  to  be  doing  interests  you,  join  us. 
If  it  does  not,  interest  yourselves  as  you  please. 
That  is  our  custom  here." 

The  mention '  of  the  name  which  I  had  applied 
to  myself  gave  me  a  little  shock.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances I  did  not  like  it.  It  was  possible  that 
the  Mother  Superior  of  the  House  of  Martha 
might  know  what  it  meant ;  and  whether  she  knew 
it  now,  or  ever  should  come  to  know  it,  I  did  not 
wish  the  knowledge  to  come  to  her  in  that  way. 

"  There  is  still  another  one  of  our  family,"  said 
the  Sand  Lady ;  "  but  she  is  very  independent, 
and  may  not  care  for  me  to  present  you  just  now. 
I  wiU  go  and  ask  her." 

She  stepped  off  the  piazza,  and  went  to  a  lady 
who  was  reading  in  a  hammock,  under  a  tree  near 
by.  In  a  minute  or  two  this  lady  arose,  and,  with 
her  book  in  her  hand,  came  toward  us.  She  was 
a  woman  of  good  figure,  and  with  a  certain  air  of 
loftiness.  Her  dress  was  extremely  simple,  and 
she  may  have  been  thirty  years  old.  Approaching 
us,  she  said  :  — 

"  I  wish  to  introduce  myself.  I  am  a  '  Person.' 
In  this  place  that  is  all  I  am.  It  is  my  name.  It 
denotes  my  characteristics.     Your  titles  have  been 


THE  INTERPOLATION,  143 

mentioned  to  me.  The  ceremony  is  over,"  and, 
with  a  little  nod,  she  returned  to  her  hammock. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Man  of  the  Sea,  "  who  could 
prune  away  conventionalities  better  than  that?" 
He  then  announced  that  in  half  an  hour  the  tide 
would  serve  for  fishing,  —  that  he  was  going  out 
in  his  boat,  and  would  take  any  one  who  cared  to 
accompany  him ;  and  this  announcement  having 
been  made,  he  settled  himself  upon  the  piazza  to 
talk  to  us.  The  conversation  was  interesting  and 
lively.  The  people  at  this  house  were  well  worth 
knowing. 

The  Sand  Lady  and  Walkirk  went  in  the  boat 
to  fish.  The  latter  had  been  very  prompt  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation.  I  do  not  know  whether  the 
Shell  Man  went  with  them  or  not.  At  all  events, 
he  disappeared,  and  Mother  Anastasia  and  myself 
were  left  upon  the  piazza.  It  surprised  me  that 
events  had  so  quickly  shaped  themselves  to  my 
advantage. 

"  Do  you  insist,"  I  said,  when  we  were  left  alone, 
"on  being  called  an  Interpolation ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  she  answered ;  "  that  is  what 
I  am." 

"  You  like  plain  speech." 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  it,"  was  her  reply. 

During  the  general  conversation  I  had  deter- 
mined that  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  offered  I 
would  speak  very  plainly  to  this  lady.  I  looked 
about  me.  The  occupant  of  the  hammock  was  not 
far  away.  I  surmised  that  she  could  readily  hear 
me  if  I  spoke  in  my  ordinary  tone. 


144  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  Plain  speech  appears  difficult  to  you,"  re- 
marked  my  companion. 

I  still  looked  about  me.  "  It  strikes  me,"  said 
I,  "  that  beyond  the  other  side  of  the  house  there 
is  a  bluff  from  which  one  might  get  a  view  of  the 
mainland.  Would  you  like  to  go  and  find  out 
whether  that  is  so  or  not  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  that  view  several  times,"  she  an- 
swered ;  and  then,  after  a  little  pause,  she  added, 
"  But  I  don't  mind  in  the  least  seeing  it  again." 
Together  we  walked  to  the  bluff.  There  we  found 
two  rude  seats  which  had  been  made  for  the  con- 
venience of  viewers,  and  on  one  of  these  she  seated 
herself. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  please  sit  down,  and  you 
may  immediately  begin  to  ask  me  about  Sister 
Ha-" 

"  Oh,  do  not  call  her  by  that  name  ! "  I  cried. 

She  laughed.  "  Very  well,  then,"  said  she, 
«  what  shall  I  caU  her  ?  " 

"  Sylvia,"  I  replied. 

She  opened  her  eyes.  "  Upon  my  word,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  this  is  progress !  How  did  you  come 
to  know  that  her  name  is  Sylvia  ?  " 

"  She  told  me,"  I  answered.  "  But  why  do  you 
think  I  want  to  ask  you  about  Sylvia  ?" 

"I  knew  there  was  no  other  reason  for  your 
wishing  to  have  a  private  talk  with  me  ;  but  I 
must  admit  that  I  would  not  have  felt  warranted 
to  act  upon  my  assumptions  had  you  not  an- 
nounced yourself  in  this  place  as  a  Lover  in 
Check." 


THE  INTERPOLATION.  145 

"  But  could  not  some  one  else  have  held  me  in 
check?"  I  asked. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she.  "  I  have  heard  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  you  parted  from  your  late  secretary." 

This  conversation  was  getting  to  be  plainer  than 
I  desired  it  to  be.  I  was  willing  to  declare  my 
position,  but  I  did  not  care  to  have  it  declared  for 
me.     I  was  silent  for  a  minute. 

"  I  did  not  suppose,"  I  then  said,  "  that  you 
were  so  well  informed.  You  think  that  I  am  a 
lover  held  in  check  by  the  circumstances  surround- 
ing the  lady  you  designated  my  late  secretary  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  May  I  ask,"  I  continued,  with  a  little  agita- 
tion, "  if  Sylvia  considers  me  in  this  light,  and  if 
she  has  —  expressed  any  opinion  on  the  subject  ?  " 

"Those  are  pretty  questions,"  said  the  lady, 
fixing  her  dark  eyes  upon  me.  "  She  has  said 
nothing  about  the  light  in  which  she  c6nsiders  you. 
In  fact,  all  she  has  told  me  about  you  has  been  in 
answer  to  questions  I  have  put  to  her ;  but  had 
she  spoken  of  you  as  a  lover,  checked  or  unchecked, 
of  course  you  would  have  been  none  the  wiser  for 
me.  Sylvia  is  a  simple-hearted,  frank  girl,  and  I 
have  thought  that  she  might  not  have  suspected 
the  nature  of  your  very  decided  liking  for  her; 
but  now  that  I  have  found  out  that  she  let  you 
know  her  as  Sylvia  I  am  afraid  she  is  deeper  than 
I  thought  her.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  you 
two  had  flirted  dreadfully." 

"  I  never  flirt,"  I  answered  emphatically. 

"  That  is  right,"  said  she.     "  Never  do  it." 


146  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  But  why,"  I  asked,  "  did  you  allow  her  to  con- 
tinue to  come  to  me,  if  you  thought  I  had  a  decided 
liking  for  her,  and  all  that  ?  " 

"  Because  I  chose  to  do  it,"  she  replied,  with 
not  the  ripple  of  a  smile  nor  the  furrow  of  a  frown 
upon  her  face. 

I  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  Interpolation,  Mother  Ana- 
stasia,  or  whatever  name  you  give  yourself,  begin 
now  and  tell  me  about  Sylvia,  and  speak  to  me 
freely,  as  I  speak  to  you.  I  love  her  with  all  my 
heart.  If  I  can,  I  intend  to  marry  her,  Martha 
or  no  Martha.  I  care  not  what  may  be  the  odds 
against  me.  Now  you  see  exactly  where  I  stand, 
and  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  you  may  speak  with- 
out restraint." 

"  You  are  certainly  very  clear  and  explicit,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  tell  you  about  Syl- 


XXV. 

ABOUT   SYLVIA. 

"Before  I  begin,"  continued  my  companion, 
slanting  her  hat  so  as  to  prevent  the  sun  from 
meddling  with  the  perfect  tones  of  her  complexion, 
"  tell  me  what  you  already  know  about  this  young 
lady.     I  do  not  wish  to  waste  any  information." 

"  All  I  know,"  said  I,  "  is  that  her  family  name 
is  Raynor,  —  my  grandmother  told  me  that,  —  that 
she  is  absolutely,  utterly,  and  even  wickedly  out  of 
place  in  the  House  of  Martha,  and  that  I  want  her 
for  my  wife." 

"  Very  good,"  said  my  companion,  with  a  smile. 
"  Now  I  know  what  not  to  tell  you.  I  am  very 
fond  of  Sylvia.  In  fact,  I  believe  I  love  her  bet- 
ter than  any  other  woman  in  the  world  "  — 

"  So  do  I,"  I  interrupted. 

She  laughed.  "  For  a  lover  in  check  you  are  en- 
tirely toa  ready  to  move.  For  years  I  have  looked 
upon  her  as  a  younger  sister,  and  there  is  no  good 
thing  which  I  would  not  have  lavished  upon  her 
had  I  been  able,  but  instead  of  that  I  did  her  an 
injury.  At  times  I  have  thought  it  a  terrible  in- 
jury." 

"  You  mean,"  I  asked,  "  that  you  have  allowed 
her  to  enter  the  House  of  Martha  ?  " 


148  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA, 

"Your  quickness  is  wonderful,"  she  said,  "but 
you  do  not  put  the  case  quite  correctly.  Had  it 
been  possible  for  me  to  prohibit  her  joining  our 
sisterhood,  I  should  have  done  so  ;  but  she  was  per- 
fectly free  to  do  as  she  pleased,  and  my  advice 
against  it  was  of  no  avail.  It  was  my  example 
which  induced  her  to  enter  the  House  of  Martha. 
She  had  had  trouble.  She  wished  to  retire  from 
the  world,  and  devote  herself  to  good  works  which 
should  banish  her  trouble.  I  had  so  devoted  my- 
self. She  loved  me,  and  she  followed  me.  I 
talked  to  her  until  I  made  her  unhappy,  and  then 
I  let  her  go  her  way.  But  the  great  object  of  my 
life  for  nearly  a  year  has  been  to  make  that  girl 
feel  that  her  true  way  is  out  of  the  House  of  Mar- 
tha." 

"  Then  she  is  not  bound  by  vows  or  promises  ?  " 
I  asked,  with  some  excitement. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  she.  "  She  can  leave 
us  when  she  pleases.  I  do  not  think  she  likes  her 
life  or  her  duties,  unless,  indeed,  they  lead  her  in 
the  direction  of  dictated  literature  ;  but  she  has  a 
firm  will,  and,  having  joined  us,  has  never  shown 
the  slightest  sign  of  a  desire  to  leave  us.  She  al- 
ways asserts  that,  when  the  proper  time  arrives, 
she  shall  vow  herseK  a  permanent  member  of  our 
sisterhood." 

"  What  preposterous  absurdity  !  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  She  will  never  conform  to  your  rules.  She  hates 
nursing.  She  has  too  much  good  sense  to  insult 
her  fine  womanly  nature  by  degrading  and  unne- 
cessary sacrifices." 


ABOUT  SYLVIA.  149 

"How  delightfully  confideDtial  she  must  have 
been !  —  but  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  she  never  said 
that  sort  of  thing  to  me.  There  were  things  she 
liked  and  things  she  did  not  like,  but  she  showed 
no  signs  of  rebellion." 

"  Which  was  wise,"  I  said,  "  knowing  that  you 
thought  she  ought  not  to  be  there,  any  way." 

"  Oh,  but  she  is  a  little  serpent,"  exclaimed  my 
companion,  "  and  so  wise  to  confide  in  you,  and 
without  flirting !  It  must  have  been  charming  to 
see. 

I  did  not  reply  to  this  remark,  which  I  consid- 
ered flippant,  and  my  mind  was  not  inclined  to 
flippancy. 

"  It  may  appear  strange  to  you,"  she  continued, 
"  and  would  probably  appear  strange  to  any  one 
who  did  not  understand  the  case,  that  I  should 
have  allowed  her  to  become  your  amanuensis,  but 
this  whole  affair  is  a  very  peculiar  one.  In  the 
first  place,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  Sylvia 
should  work.  It  is  not  only  her  duty  as  a  sister, 
but  without  it  she  would  fall  into  a  morbid  mental 
condition.  She  is  not  fitted  in  any  way  for  the 
ordinary  labors  of  our  House,  so  I  was  glad  to 
find  something  which  would  not  only  suit  her,  but 
would  so  interest  her  that  it  would  help  to  draw 
her  away  from  us,  and  back  into  the  world,  to 
which  she  rightfully  belongs.  This  must  appear 
an  odd  desire  for  a  mother  superior  of  a  religious 
body,  but  it  is  founded  on  an  earnest  and  conscien- 
tious regard  for  the  true  welfare  of  my  young 
friend. 


150  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  And  then  there  was  another  reason  for  my 
allowing  her  to  come  to  you.  You  would  smile  if 
you  could  picture  to  yourself  the  mental  image  I 
had  formed  of  you,  which  was  founded  entirely  on 
your  grandmother's  remarks  when  she  came  to  see 
me  about  engaging  one  of  our  sisters  as  your  sec- 
retary. Before  this  matter  was  discussed  I  may 
have  seen  you  in  the  village,  but  I  never  had  known 
you  even  by  sight,  and  from  what  that  good  lady 
said  of  you  I  supposed  that  you  were  decidedly 
middle-aged  in  feeling,  if  not  in  years ;  that  you 
were  extremely  grave  and  studious,  and  wished, 
when  engaged  upon  literary  composition,  to  be  en- 
tirely oblivious  of  your  surroundings;  and  that 
you  desired  an  amanuensis  who  should  be  simply 
a  writing-machine,  —  who  would  in  no  way  annoy 
you  by  intruding  upon  you  any  evidence  that  she 
possessed  a  personality.  A  sister  from  our  House, 
your  grandmother  urged,  would  be  the  very  person 
you  needed,  and  infinitely  better  suited  to  the  po- 
sition than  the  somewhat  frivolous  young  women 
who  very  often  occupy  positions  as  amanuenses. 

"  It  was  for  these  reasons  that  I  sent  Sylvia  to 
write  at  the  dictation  of  the  sedate  author  of  the 
forthcoming  book  on  European  travel.  Even  when 
1  heard  that  a  love-story  had  been  introduced  into 
the  descriptions  of  countries,  I  concluded,  after 
consideration,  not  to  interfere.  I  did  not  think 
that  it  would  be  of  any  disadvantage  to  Sylvia  if 
she  should  become  a  little  interested  in  love  affairs ; 
but  that  you  should  become  interested  in  a  love  af- 
fair, such  as  that  you  have  mentioned  to  me,  I  did 
not  imagine  in  the  remotest  degree." 


ABOUT  SYLVIA.  151 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  T,  "  that  your  motives  as  far 
as  Sylvia  was  concerned,  and  your  action  as  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  were  heaven-born.  And  now,  as 
we  are  speaking  plainly  here  together,  let  me  ask 
you  if  you  do  not  think  you  would  be  fulfilling 
what  you  consider  your  duty  to  Sylvia  by  aiding 
me  to  make  her  my  wife  !  There  can  surely  be  no 
better  way  for  her  to  fiU  her  proper  place  in  the 
world  than  to  marry  a  man  who  loves  her  with  his 
whole  heart.  I  know  that  I  love  her  above  all  the 
world ;  I  believe  that  I  am  worthy  of  her." 

She  answered  me  in  a  tone  which  was  grave, 
but  gentle.  "  Do  you  not  know  you  are  asking  me 
to  do  something  which  is  entirely  impossible  ?  In 
the  first  place,  my  official  position  precludes  me 
from  taking  part  in  affairs  of  this  nature  ;  and  al- 
though I  am  willing  to  admit  that  I  see  no  reason 
why  you  might  not  be  a  suitable  partner  for  Syl- 
via, I  must  also  admit  that,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
have  no  reason  to  believe  that  Sylvia  would  be  in- 
clined to  accept  you  as  such  a  partner.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  she  has  made  herself  very  agreeable  to 
you,  —  that  is  her  nature  ;  I  know  that  she  used  to 
make  herself  very  agreeable  to  people.  You  must 
remember  that,  even  should  Sylvia  leave  us,  your 
chances  may  be  no  better  than  they  are  now." 

"  Madam,"  I  said,  leaning  toward  her,  and 
speaking  with  great  earnestness,  "  I  will  take  all 
possible  chances !  What  I  ask  and  implore  of  you 
is,  that  if  you  should  ever  be  able  to  do  the  least 
little  thing  which  would  give  me  the  opportunity 
to  plead  my  own  suit  before  Sylvia,  you  would  do 


152  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

it.  I  can  give  her  position  and  fortune.  I  think 
I  am  suited  to  her,  and  if  love  can  make  me  better 
suited,  I  have  love  enough.  Now  tell  me,  will  you 
not  do  this  thing  ?  If  you  have  the  opportunity, 
and  see  no  reason  against  it,  will  you  not  help 
me?" 

"  This  is  a  hard  position  for  me,"  she  said,  after 
a  pause,  "  and  all  I  can  promise  you  is  this :  I  love 
Sylvia,  and  I  am  going  to  do  whatever  I  think  will 
be  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  her." 

"  Then,"  I  asserted  with  continued  earnestness, 
"  it  shall  be  my  labor  to  prove  that  to  love  the  man 
who  loves  her  as  I  do  will  be  her  greatest  good  I 
K  I  do  that,  will  you  be  on  my  side  ?  " 

She  smiled,  looked  at  me  a  few  moments,  and 
then  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Your  hand  upon  it !  "  I  cried,  leaning  stiU 
farther  forward.  She  laughed  at  the  enthusiastic 
warmth  of  my  manner,  and  gave  me  her  hand. 

"  It  is  a  promise !  "  I  exclaimed,  and  was  about 
to  raise  her  fingers  to  my  lips  when  she  quickly 
drew  them  away. 

"  I  declare,"  she  said,  rising  as  she  spoke,  "  I 
did  not  suppose  that  you  would  forget  that  I  am 
the  Mother  Superior  of  the  House  of  Martha." 

"  Excuse  me,"  I  replied,  "  but  you  are  not  that ; 
with  your  own  mouth  you  have  assured  me  that 
you  are  an  Interpolation,  and  there  is  nothing  in 
a  social  or  moral  law  which  forbids  a  suitable  ex- 
pression of  gratitude  to  an  Interpolation." 

"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  I  think  I  have  seen  quite  as 
much  as  is  necessary  of  the  view  which  you  asked 
me  here  to  look  upon." 


XXVI. 

MOTHER   ANASTASIA. 

In  the  half  hour  during  which  I  remained  alone 
upon  the  bluff,  awaiting  the  return  of  Walkirk 
and  the  fishing  party,  I  thought  as  much  of  the 
lady  with  whom  I  had  been  talking  as  the  lady  of 
whom  I  had  been  talking. 

"  How  is  it  possible,"  I  asked  myself,  "  that  this 
gentlewoman,  warm  with  her  rich  blooded  beauty, 
alive  with  ripe  youth,  born  to  delight  the  soul  of 
man  and  fire  his  heart,  should  content  herself  to 
be  a  head  nurse  in  a  hospital;  to  wander  in  an 
unsightly  disguise  among  dismal  sick-beds ;  to  di- 
rect the  management  of  measles-refuges ;  to  shut 
herself  up  in  a  bare-floored,  cold-walled  institu- 
tion with  narrow-minded  Sister  Sarahs ;  to  be,  in 
a  word,  the  Mother  Superior  of  the  House  of 
Martha?" 

That  she  should  occupy  this  position  seemed  to 
me  a  crime.  There  were  many  women  in  the 
world  who  could  do  all  she  was  doing,  but  there 
were  few  who  could  take  her  place  in  the  world  of 
full,  true  life. 

When  the  fishing  party  returned,  I  went  to  the 
house  to  take  leave  of  our  new  friends. 

"  You  must  go  ?  "  said  the  Sand  Lady.     "  And 


154  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA, 

where,  may  I  ask,  is  it  imperative  that  you  should 
go/ 

"  To  the  island  where  you  have  so  kindly  allowed 
us  to  sojourn,"  I  replied. 

"  You  sleep  in  the  cabin  of  your  boat,  I  believe  ?  " 
she  said ;   and  I  answered  that  we  did. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  continued  she,  "  why  not 
bring  your  floating  home  to  this  island  ?  It  is  in 
every  way  better  than  that.  I  will  give  you  ex- 
clusive rights  over  a  little  bay  and  an  adjoining 
dell.  There  you  'can  cook  your  own  meals  when 
you  like,  or  you  can  come  to  us  when  you  like ;  we 
always  have  more  than  enough  for  all  who  inhabit 
this  island.  In  the  evening  you  can  sit  alone  on 
the  beach  and  think  of  the  far-away  loved  one,  or 
you  can  come  up  to  the  house  and  play  whist  or 
twenty  questions.  The  Understudy  can  go  fishing 
with  my  brother ;  they  suit  each  other  admirably. 
What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  say,  madam,"  I  replied,  with  a  bow,  "  the 
sands  of  which  you  are  the  lady  are  the  dust  of 
diamonds,  and  your  invitation  is  a  golden  joy." 

"  Bless  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  must  you  be 
out  of  check !  " 

That  evening  we  sailed  to  Racket  Island,  brought 
away  our  belongings,  and  established  ourselves  in 
the  land-locked  little  bay,  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  house  of  the  Sand  Lady. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  walked  around  to  a 
pier  where  I  had  noticed  a  good-sized  yacht  was 
moored.  It  was  still  there ;  apparently  no  one  had 
left  the  island.     After  our  breakfast  on  the  beach 


MOTHER  ANASTASIA,  155 

I  told  Walkirk  to  devote  himself  to  independent 
occupations,  and  walked  up  to  the  house.  I  found 
the  lady  who  had  called  herself  a  Person  and  the 
one  of  whom  I  did  not  like  to  think  as  an  Interpo- 
lation sitting  together  upon  the  piazza.  I  joined 
them. 

"  Would  n't  you  be  very  much  obliged  to  me," 
asked  the  Person,  after  a  scattering  conversation, 
in  which  I  suppose  I  appeared  as  but  a  perfunctory 
performer,  "  if  I  were  to  go  away  and  leave  you 
alone  with  this  lady  ?  " 

"  As  this  is  an  island  of  plain  speaking,"  I  re- 
plied, "  I  will  say,  yes." 

Both  ladies  laughed,  and  the  Person  retired  to 
her  hammock. 

"  Now,  then,"  asked  Mother  Anastasia,  "  what 
is  the  meaning  of  this  alarming  frankness  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  talk  to  you  of  Sylvia,"  I  answered. 

"  If  you  imagine,"  she  said,  "  that  I  intend  to 
spend  the  short  time  I  shall  remain  upon  this 
island  in  talking  of  Sylvia,  you  are  very  much 
mistaken." 

"  Then  let  us  talk  of  yourself,"  I  replied. 

She  turned  upon  me  with  a  frown  and  a  laugh. 

"If  I  had  known,"  she  said,  "your  habits  of 
ingenuousness  and  candor,  I  should  have  made  you 
dictate  to  Sylvia  through  a  speaking-tube.  You 
have  known  me  less  than  a  day.  You  have  known 
her  for  a  month.  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  talk 
to  her  as  freely  as  you  talk  to  me  ?  " 

"  Madam,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  love  Sylvia,  and 
therefore  could  not  speak  freely  to  her." 


156  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"Your  distinctions  are  wonderfully  clear-cut," 
she  said  ;  "  but  why  do  you  wish  to  talk  of  me  ? 
I  suppose  you  want  to  know  why  I  am  Mother 
Superior  of  the  House  of  Martha  ?  " 

"  Yes,'*  I  answered,  "  that  is  a  thing  I  cannot 
understand  ;  but  of  course  I  should  not  feel  justi- 
fied in  even  alluding  to  it  if,  yesterday,  you  had 
not  so  kindly  given  me  your  confidence  in  regard 
to  yourself  and  Sylvia." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  she  remarked,  "  that,  as  you 
decline  to  recognize  the  name  given  to  that  young 
woman  by  our  institution,  you  should  call  her  Mis3 
Raynor ;  but  I  will  say  no  more  of  that." 

"  It  would  be  well,"  said  I.  "  She  is  Sylvia  to 
me.  You  must  remember  that  I  never  met  her  in 
the  circles  of  conventionalism." 

She  laughed.  "  This  whole  affair  is  certainly 
very  independent  of  conventionalism ;  and  as  to 
your  curiosity  about  me,  that  is  very  easily  grati- 
fied. Nearly  five  years  ago  I  connected  myself 
with  the  House  of  Martha.  Although  there  were 
sisters  older  than  myself,  I  was  chosen  Mother 
Superior,  because  I  possessed  rather  more  ad- 
ministrative abilities  than  any  of  the  others.  I 
think  I  have  governed  the  House  fairly  well, 
even  if,  in  regard  to  the  matter  of  furnishing  sec- 
retaries to  literary  men,  there  has  been  some  dis-  I 
satisfaction." 

"  You  allude  to  Sister  Sarah  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered ;  "  and  had  she  been  head 
of  the  House,  your  peace  of  mind  would  not  have 
been  disturbed.  But  what  I  did  in  that  case  I  did 
conscientiously  and  with  good  intent." 


MOTHER  ANASTASIA.  157 

"  And  you  are  not  sorry  for  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It  may  be  that  I  shall  be  sorry  for  you,"  she 
replied,  "  but  that  is  all  I  have  to  say  on  that 
point.  In  a  very  short  time  I  shall  return  to  my 
duties  and  to  my  sombre  bonnet  and  gown,  and 
these  interpolated  days,  which  in  a  manner  have 
been  forced  upon  me,  should  be  forgotten." 

"But  one  thing  you  must  not  forget,"  I  ex- 
claimed :  "  it  was  in  this  time  that  you  promised 
me    — 

"  You  selfish,  selfish  man,"  she  interrupted,  "  you 
think  only  of  yourself.  I  shall  talk  no  more  of 
yourself,  of  myself,  or  of  Sylvia.  My  friends  are 
at  the  other  side  of  the  house,  and  I  am  going  to 
them."     And  she  went. 

While  Walkirk  and  I  were  sailing  that  after- 
noon, he  managing  the  boat  and  I  stretched  upon 
some  cushions,  I  told  him  of  my  conversations  with 
Mother  Anastasia.  I  considered  him  worthy  of 
my .  confidence,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  give  it  to 
him. 

"  She  is  a  rare,  strange  woman,"  said  he.  "  I 
thought  her  very  handsome  when  I  visited  her  at 
the  House  of  Martha ;  but  since  I  have  seen  her 
here,  dressed  in  becoming  clothes,  I  consider  that 
she  possesses  phenomenal  attractions." 

"  And  I  hope,"  I  remarked,  "  that  she  may  be 
phenomenally  good-natured,  and  give  me  some 
chances  of  seeing  Sylvia  Eaynor." 

"  That  would  indeed  be  phenomenal,"  said  Wal- 
kirk, laughing,  "  considering  that  she  is  a  Mother 
Superior,  and  the  young  lady  is  a  member  of  the 


158  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

sisterhood.  But  everything  relating  to  the  case 
is  peculiar,  and  in  my  opinion  Mother  Anastasia 
is  more  peculiar  than  anything  else." 

That  evening  we  were  invited  to  dine  at  the 
house  of  the  Sand  Lady.  It  was  a  delightful  occa- 
sion. Everybody  was  in  good  spirits,  and  the 
general  tone  of  the  conversation  was  singularly 
lively  and  unrestrained.  Mother  Anastasia  would 
not  play  cards,  but  we  amused  ourselves  with  vari- 
ous sprightly  social  games,  in  which  the  lady  who 
preferred  to  be  called  a  Person  showed  a  vivacious 
though  sometimes  nipping  wit.  I  had  no  oppor- 
tunity for  further  private  talk  with  Mother  An- 
astasia, nor  did  I  desire  one.  I  wished  to  interest 
her  in  my  love  for  Sylvia,  but  not  to  bore  her 
with  it. 

The  next  day,  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  the  Sand 
Lady  and  the  Shell  Man  walked  over  to  our  little 
bay,  where  they  found  Walkirk  and  me  fencing 
upon  the  level  beach. 

"  Stop  your  duel,  gentlemen,"  said  the  lady.  "  I 
come  to  give  you  the  farewells  of  the  Interpolation. 
She  was  sorry  she  could  not  do  this  herself,  but 
she  went  away  very  early  this  morning." 

"  Went  away  !  "  I  cried,  dropping  my  foil  upon 
the  sand.     "  Where  did  she  go  ?  " 

"  She  sailed  in  our  yacht  for  Sanford,"  answered 
the  Sand  Lady,  "  to  take  the  morning  train  for 
her  beloved  House  of  Martha.  My  brother  ac- 
companied her  to  the  town,  but  he  wiU  be  back 
to-day." 

I  was  surprised  and  grieved,  and  showed  it. 


MOTHEB  ANASTASIA.  159 

"  We  are  all  sorry  to  have  her  go,"  said  the 
Sand  Lady,  "  and  sorry  to  see  her  wearing  that 
doleful  gray  garb,  which  my  brother  allowed  her 
to  assume  this  morning." 

"  I  am  glad,"  I  exclaimed,  "  that  I  did  not  see 
her  in  it !  " 

The  lady  looked  at  me  with  her  pleasant,  quiet 
smile. 

"  You  seem  very  much  interested  in  her." 

"  I  am,"  I  replied,  "  very  much  interested,  both 
directly  and  indirectly,  and  I  am  exceedingly  sorry 
that  she  departed  without  my  knowing  it." 

This  time  the  Sand  Lady  laughed.  "Good- 
morning,  gentlemen,"  said  she.  "Go  on  with 
your  duel." 


xxvn. 

A  PERSON. 

I  FENCED  no  more.  "  Walkirk,"  I  cried,  "  let 
us  get  our  traps  on  board,  and  be  off  !  " 

My  under-study  looked  troubled,  —  more  trou- 
bled than  I  had  ever  seen  him  before. 

"Why  do  you  think  of  this?"  he  asked. 
"  Where  do  you  propose  to  go  ?  " 

"  Home,"  said  I,  "  to  my  own  house.  That  is 
the  place  where  I  want  to  be." 

Walkirk  stood  still  and  looked  at  me,  his  face 
still  wearing  an  air  of  deep  concern. 

"  It  is  not  my  place  to  advise,"  he  said,  "but  it 
seems  to  me  that  your  return  at  this  moment  would 
have  a  very  odd  appearance,  to  say  the  least. 
Every  one  would  think  that  you  were  pursuing 
Mother  Anastasia,  and  she  herself  would  think 
so." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  she  wiU  not  suppose  anything  of 
the  kind.  She  wiU  know  very  well  on  whose  ac- 
count I  came.  And  as  for  the  people  here,  they 
might  labor  under  a  mistake  at  first,  because  of 
course  I  should  not  offer  them  any  explanation, 
but  they  would  soon  learn  the  real  state  of  the 
case  ;  that  is,  if  they  correspond  with  the  Mother 
Superior." 


A  FEB  SON.  161 

"  You  propose,  then,"  said  Walkirk,  "  to  lay- 
siege  to  the  House  of  Martha,  and  to  carry  away, 
if  you  can.  Miss  Sylvia  Raynor  ?  " 

"  I  have  made  no  plans,"  I  answered,  "  but  I 
can  look  after  my  interests  better  in  Arden  than 
I  can  here.  I  do  not  like  this  sudden  departure 
of  the  Mother  Superior.  I  very  much  fear  that 
something  has  induced  her  to  withdraw  the  good 
will  with  which  she  previously  seemed  to  look  upon 
my  attachment  to  Miss  Raynor.  Were  this  not 
so,  she  would  have  advised  with  me  before  she 
left.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  natural.  Now 
I  believe  she  has  set  herself  against  me,  and  has 
gone  away  with  the  intention  of  permanently 
separating  Sylvia  and  myself." 

"  Have  you  any  reason,"  asked  Walkirk,  "  to 
impute  such  an  intention  to  her  ?  " 

"Her  sudden  flight  indicates  it,"  I  replied; 
"  and  besides,  you  know,  although  she  is  not  a 
Roman  Catholic,  she  is  at  the  head  of  a  religious 
house,  and  persons  in  that  position  are  naturally 
averse  to  anybody  marrying  the  sisters  under  their 
charge.  Even  if  she  does  not  approve  of  Miss 
Raynor's  remaining  in  the  House,  she  may  not 
want  her  to  date  a  love  affair  from  the  establish- 
ment. If  I  remain  here.  Miss  Raynor  may  be 
spirited  entirely  out  of  my  sphere  of  action." 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  Walkirk,  "  the  way  to  get 
her  spirited  out  of  your  sight  and  knowledge  is 
for  you  to  go  home  at  this  juncture.  In  that  case, 
Mother  Anastasia  would  be  bound,  in  duty  to  the 
young  lady  and  her  family,  to  send  her  away.     Do 


162  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

you  not  agree  with  me  that  if  you  were  to  reach 
Arden  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  so  to  speak, 
and  especially  if  you  got  there  after  your  grand- 
mother had  returned,  you  would  avoid  a  great  deal 
of  undesirable  complication,  and  perhaps  actual 
opposition  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  I  answered  ;  "  it  would  not 
look  well  for  me  to  start  away  so  suddenly.  We 
will  wait  a  day  or  two,  and  then  drop  off  natu- 
raUy." 

Walking  toward  the  house,  in  the  afternoon,  I 
met  the  Person.  She  advanced  toward  me,  hold- 
ing out  her  hand  with  an  air  of  peremptory  friend- 
liness. 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  you.  I  want  you  to 
amuse  me.  I  could  not  ask  this  of  you  so  long  as 
that  fascinating  abbess  was  on  the  island." 

I  was  a  little  surprised  at  this  salutation,  and 
not  at  all  pleased.  I  did  not  fancy  this  lady.  She 
had  an  air  as  if  she  were  availing  herself  of  her 
right  to  be  familiar  with  her  inferiors. 

"  I  fear  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  anything  to 
amuse  you,"  said  I. 

"  Entirely  too  modest,"  she  answered.  "  Let  us 
walk  over  to  this  bench  in  the  shade.  You  are 
not  desired  at  the  house ;  everybody  is  taking  a 
nap." 

I  went  with  her  to  the  bench  she  had  pointed 
out,  and  we  sat  down. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  she,  turning  toward  me, 
"  will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  flirt  with  me  ?  Say 
for  twenty-five  minutes,"  looking  at  her  watch; 


A  PERSON.  163 

"  that  will  bring  us  to  four  o'clock,  when  I  must 
go  indoors." 

At  first  I  thought  the  woman  was  insane,  but  a 
glance  at  her  face  showed  that  there  was  no  reason 
for  fear  of  that  kind. 

"  That  sounds  crazy,  does  n't  it  ?  "  she  asked, 
"  but  it  is  n't.  It  is  an  honest  expression  of  a 
very  natural  wish.  Hundreds  of  ladies  have  doubt- 
less looked  at  you  and  had  that  wish ;  but  social 
conventions  forbade  their  expressing  it.  Here  we 
have  no  conventions,  and  I  speak  my  mind." 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  or  miss,  there  are  few 
things  I  hold  in  such  abhorrence  as  flirtation."  As 
I  said  this  I  looked  at  her  severely,  and  she  looked 
at  me  quizzically.  She  had  gray  eyes,  which  were 
capable  of  a  great  variety  of  expressions,  and  her 
face,  suffused  by  the  light  of  a  bantering  jocular- 
ity, was  an  attractive  one.  I  was  obliged  to  ad- 
mit this,  in  spite  of  my  distaste  for  her. 

"  I  like  that,"  she  said ;  "  it  sounds  so  well,  after 
your  vigorous  flirtation  with  our  abbess.  If  I  had 
not  seen  a  good  deal  of  that,  I  should  not  have 
dared  to  ask  you  to  flirt  with  me.  I  thought  you 
liked  it,  and  now  that  she  is  gone  might  be  willing 
to  take  up  with  some  one  else." 

I  was  irritated  and  disquieted.  I  had  been  very 
earnest  in  my  attentions  to  Mother  Anastasia. 
Perhaps  this  lady  had  seen  me  attempt  to  kiss  her 
hand.     I  must  set  myself  right. 

"  You  are  utterly  mistaken,"  said  I.  "  What  I 
had  to  say  to  Mothei'  Anastasia  related  entirely  to 
another  person." 


164  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  One  of  the  sisters  in  her  institution  ? "  she 
asked.  "  She  had  nothing  to  do  with  any  other 
persons,  so  far  as  I  know.  Truly,  that  is  a  capital 
idea !  "  she  exclaimed,  without  waiting  for  response 
from  me.  "  In  order  to  flirt  with  a  member  of  the 
sisterhood,  a  gentleman  must  direct  his  attentions 
to  the  Mother  Superior  who  represents  them,  and 
the  flirting  is  thus  done  by  proxy.  Now  don't 
attempt  to  correct  me.  The  idea  is  entirely  too 
delightful  for  me  to  allow  it  to  be  destroyed  by 
any  bare  statements  or  assertions." 

"  I  suppose,"  I  answered,  "  that  Mother  Ana- 
stasia  has  taken  you  into  her  confidence  ?  " 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  that  most  gratifying 
testimony  to  my  powers  of  insight !  "  she  cried. 
"  The  Mother  Superior  gave  me  no  confidences. 
So  you  have  been  smitten  by  a  gray-gown.  How 
did  you  happen  to  become  acquainted  with  her  ? 
I  do  not  imagine  they  allow  gentleman  visitors  at 
the  House  of  Martha  ?  " 

"  Madam,  you  know,  or  assume  to  know,  so 
much  of  my  affairs,"  said  I,  "  that  in  order  to  pre- 
vent injurious  conjectures  regarding  the  House  of 
Martha,  its  officers  and  inmates,  I  shall  say  that 
I  became  acquainted  in  a  perfectly  legitimate  man- 
ner with  a  young  lady  living  therein,  who  has  not 
yet  taken  the  vows  of  the  permanent  sisterhood, 
and  I  intend,  as  soon  as  circumstances  wiU  permit, 
to  make  her  an  offer  of  marriage.  I  assure  you, 
I  regret  extremely  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  talk 
in  this  way  to  a  stranger,  and  nothing  could  have 
induced  me  to  do  it  but  the  fear  that  your  con- 


A  PERSON.  165 

jectures  and  surmises  might  make  trouble.  I  ask 
as  a  right  that  you  will  say  no  more  of  the  matter 
to  any  one." 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  the  lady's  name  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"Of  course  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  I  an- 
swered, rising  from  my  seat,  with  my  face  flushing 
with  indignation. 

"  This  is  odd  flirting,  is  n't  it  ?  '^  said  she,  still 
retaining  her  seat,  —  "a  quarrel  at  the  very  out- 
set. I  shall  not  be  prevented  from  informing  you 
why  you  ought  to  tell  me  the  name  of  the  lady. 
You  see  that  if  you  don't  give  me  her  name  my 
ungovernable  curiosity  will  set  me  to  working  the 
matter  out  for  myself,  and  it  is  quite  as  likely  as 
not  that  I  shall  go  to  the  House  of  Martha,  and 
ask  questions,  and  pry,  and  watch,  and  make  no 
end  of  trouble.  If  a  blooming  bride  is  to  be 
picked  from  that  flock  of  ash-colored  gruel-mixers, 
I  want  to  know  who  it  is  to  be.  I  used  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  a  good  many  of  them,  but  I  have  n't 
visited  the  House  for  some  time." 

I  had  never  known  any  one  assume  toward  me 
a  position  so  unjustifiable  and  so  unseemly  as  that 
in  which  this  lady  had  deliberately  placed  herself. 
I  could  find  no  words  to  express  my  opinion  of  her 
conduct,  and  was  on  the  point  of  walking  away, 
when  she  rose  and  quickly  stepped  to  my  side. 

"  Don't  go  away  angry,"  she  said.  "  On  this 
island  we  don't  get  angry ;  it  is  too  conventional. 
I  am  bound  to  find  out  all  about  this  affair,  be- 
cause it  interests  me.     It  is  something  quite  out  of 


166  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

the  common ;  and  although  you  are  in  a  measure 
right  in  saying  that  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
your  affairs,  you  must  know  you  have  in  a  measure 
mixed  yourself  up  with  my  affairs.  I  am  one  of 
the  original  subscribers  to  the  House  of  Martha, 
and  used  to  take  a  good  deal  of  interest  in  the  es- 
tablishment, as  was  my  right  and  privilege ;  but 
the  sisters  bored  me  after  a  time,  and  as  I  have 
been  traveling  in  Europe  for  more  than  a  year  I 
now  know  very  little  of  what  has  been  going  on 
there.  But  if  there  is  a  young  woman  in  that 
House  who  prefers  marriage  to  hospital  life  and 
tailor-made  costumes  to  ash-bags,  I  say  that  she 
has  mistaken  her  vocation,  and  ought  to  be  helped 
out  of  it ;  and  although  I  know  you  to  be  a  pretty 
peppery  gentleman,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  help 
her  in  your  direction,  if  that  is  the  way  she  wanta 
to  go.  I  offer  myself  to  you  as  an  ally.  Take 
me  on  your  side,  and  tell  me  aU  about  it.  It  would 
be  perfectly  ridiculous  to  let  me  go  down  there 
imagining  that  this  or  that  underdone-griddle-cake- 
faced  young  woman  was  your  lady-love.  I  might 
make  mistakes,  and  do  more  harm  than  good." 

"  Madam,"  I  replied,  "  let  us  have  done  with 
this.  I  have  never  said  one  word  to  the  young 
lady  in  question  of  my  feelings  toward  her,  and  it 
is  in  the  highest  degree  improper  and  unjust  that 
she  should  be  discussed  in  connection  with  them. 
I  hav^e  laid  the  matter  before  Mother  Anastasia, 
as  she  stands  in  position  of  parent  to  the  young 
lady ;  but  with  no  one  else  can  I  possibly  act,  or 
even  discuss  the  subject,"  and  I  bowed. 


A  PEBSON.  167 

"  I  don't  like  this,"  she  said,  without  noticing 
that  I  had  taken  leave  of  her.  "  Mother  Anastasia 
did  not  intend  to  leave  here  until  to-morrow,  and 
she  went  away  early  this  morning.  She  has  some 
pressing  business  on  hand,  and  ten  chances  to  one 
she  has  gone  to  fillip  your  young  lady  out  of  your 
sight  and  hearing.  Don't  you  see  that  it  would 
not  look  at  all  well  for  one  of  her  sisters  to  marry, 
or  even  to  receive  the  attentions  of  a  gentleman, 
immediately  after  she  had  left  the  institution  ?  " 

This  suggestion,  so  like  my  own  suspicions, 
greatly  disturbed  me. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest,"  said  I,  "  or  is  all  this 
chaffer  ?  What  reasonable  interest  can  you  take 
in  me  and  my  affairs  ?  " 

"  I  take  no  interest  whatever,"  said  she,  "  ex- 
cepting that  I  have  heard  you  are  both  eccentric 
and  respectable,  and  that  I  have  found  you  amus- 
ing, and  in  this  class  of  people  I  am  always  inter- 
ested. But  I  will  say  to  you  that  if  there  is  a 
woman  in  that  House  who  might  make  a  suitable 
and  satisfactory  marriage,  if  an  opportunity  were 
allowed  her,  I  believe  she  should  be  allowed  the 
opportunity,  and,  acting  upon  general  principles 
of  justice  and  a  desire  to  benefit  my  fellow-mortals, 
I  should  use  my  influence  to  give  it  to  her.  So 
you  see  that  I  should  really  be  acting  for  the  girl, 
and  not  for  you,  although  of  course  it  would 
amount  to  the  same  thing.  And  if  Mother  Anas- 
tasia has  gone  to  pull  down  the  curtain  on  this 
little  drama,  I  am  all  the  more  anxious  to  jerk  it 
up  again.     Come,  now,  Mr.  Lover  in  Check,  — 


168  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

and  when  I  first  heard  your  name  I  had  no  idea 
how  well  it  fitted,  —  confide  in  me.  It  would  de- 
light me  to  be  in  this  fight ;  and  you  can  see  for 
yourseK  that  it  would  be  a  very  humdrum  matter 
for  me  to  join  your  opponents,  even  if  I  should  be 
of  their  opinion.     They  do  not  need  my  help." 

This  argument  touched  me.  I  needed  help. 
Should  Mother  Anastasia  choose  to  close  the  doors 
of  the  House  of  Martha  against  me,  what  could  I 
do  ?  It  might  divert  this  lady  to  act  on  my  behaK. 
If  she  procured  an  interview  for  me  with  Sylvia, 
I  would  ask  no  more  of  her.  There  was  nothing 
to  risk  except  that  Sylvia  might  be  offended  if  she 
heard  that  she  had  been  the  object  of  compacts. 
But  something  must  be  risked,  otherwise  I  might 
be  simply  butting  my  head  against  monastic  brick- 
work. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  whatever  your  motives  may 
be,  I  accept  your  offer  to  fight  on  my  side,  and  the 
sooner  the  battle  begins  the  better.  The  young 
lady  to  whom  I  wish  to  offer  myself  in  marriage, 
and  with  whom  I  am  most  eager  to  meet,  is  Miss 
Sylvia  Raynor,  a  novice,  or  something  of  the  kind, 
in  the  House  of  Martha." 

With  her  brows  slightly  knitted,  as  if  she  did 
not  exactly  understand  my  words,  my  companion 
looked  at  me  for  an  instant.  Then  her  eyes  spar- 
kled, her  lips  parted,  and  a  flush  of  quick  compre- 
hension passed  over  her  face.  She  put  back  her 
head  and  laughed  until  she  almost  lost  her  breath. 
I  looked  upon  her,  shocked  and  wounded  to  the 
soul. 


A  PERSON.  169 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  said,  her  eyes  filled  with  the 
tears  of  laughter,  "  but  it  can't  be  helped  ;  I  with- 
draw my  offer.  I  cannot  be  on  your  side,  at  least 
just  now.  But  I  shall  remain  neutral,  —  you  can 
count  on  that,"  and,  still  laughing,  she  went  her 
way. 

Any  one  more  disagreeably  unpleasant  than  this 
woman  I  had  never  met.  When  I  told  Walkirk 
what  had  happened  I  could  not  restrain  my  burn- 
ing indignation,  and  I  declared  I  would  not  remain 
another  hour  on  the  island  with  her.  He  listened 
to  me  with  grave  concern. 

"  This  is  very  unfortunate,"  he  said,  "  but  do 
not  let  us  be  precipitate." 


XXVIIL 

THE  FLOATING   GEOCERY. 

I  NOW  positively  decided  that  the  next  day  I 
would  leave  this  island,  where  people  flew  off  at 
such  disagreeable  tangents ;  but  as  I  was  here  on 
invitation,  I  could  not  go  away  without  taking 
leave  of  my  hostess.  Accordingly,  in  the  evening 
Walkirk  and  I  went  up  to  the  house. 

The  Sand  Lady  was  manifestly  grieved  when 
she  heard  of  our  intended  departure,  and  her 
brother  was  quite  demonstrative  in  his  expressions 
of  regret ;  even  the  Shell  Man,  who  had  discovered 
in  Walkirk  some  tastes  similar  to  his  own,  de- 
murred at  our  going.  The  Person,  however,  made 
no  allusion  to  the  subject,  and  gave  us,  indeed,  as 
little  of  her  society  as  she  apparently  did  of  her 
thoughts. 

In  order  not  to  produce  the  impression  that  I 
was  running  after  Mother  Anastasia,  as  Walkirk 
had  put  it,  I  announced  that  we  should  continue 
our  cruise  for  an  indefinite  time.  I  was  sorry  to 
leave  these  good  people,  but  to  stay  with  that 
mocking  enigma  of  a  woman  was  impossible.  She 
had  possessed  herself,  in  the  most  crafty  and  un- 
warrantable manner,  of  information  which  she  had 
no  right  to  receive  and  I  had  no  right  to  give,  and 


THE  FLOATING  GBOCEBY.  171 

then  contemptuously  laughed  in  my  face.  My 
weakness  may  have  deserved  the  contempt,  but 
that  made  no  difference  in  my  opinion  of  the  wo- 
man who  had  inflicted  it  upon  me.  I  was  glad, 
when  we  bade  good-night  and  farewell  to  the  little 
party,  that  the  Person  was  not  present. 

But  early  the  next  morning,  just  as  we  were 
hoisting  sail  on  our  boat,  this  lady  appeared,  walk- 
ing rapidly  down  to  our  beach.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  light  morning  costume,  with  some  sort  of  a 
gauzy  fabric  thrown  over  her  head,  and  if  I  had 
not  hated  her  so  thoroughly  I  should  have  consid- 
ered her  a  very  picturesque  and  attractive  figure. 

"  I  am  glad  I  am  in  time,"  she  called  out.  "  I 
don't  want  you  to  go  away  with  too  bad  an  opinion 
of  me,  and  I  came  to  say  that  what  you  have  con- 
fided to  me  is  just  as  safe  with  me  as  it  would  be 
with  anybody  else.  Do  you  think  you  can  believe 
that  if  you  try  ?  " 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  make  any  answer  to 
this  woman,  but  I  took  off  my  hat  and  bowed. 
The  sail  filled,  and  we  glided  away. 

Walkirk  was  not  in  good  spirits.  It  was  plain 
enough  that  he  liked  the  Tangent  Island  and 
wanted  to  stay ;  and  he  had  good  reason,  for  he 
had  found  pleasant  company,  and  this  could  not 
always  be  said  to  be  the  case  when  sailing  in  a 
small  boat  or  camping  out  with  me.  My  intention 
was  to  sail  to  a  town  on  the  mainland,  some  thirty 
miles  distant,  there  leave  our  boat,  and  take  a  train 
for  Arden.  This,  I  considered,  was  sacrificing  to 
appearances  as  much  time  as  I  could  allow. 


172  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA, 

But  the  breeze  was  light  and  fitful,  and  we  made 
but  little  progress,  and  about  the  middle  of  the 
forenoon  a  fog  came  slowly  creeping  up  from  the 
sea.  It  grew  thicker  and  heavier,  until  in  an  hour 
or  two  we  were  completely  shut  out  from  all  view 
of  the  world  about  us.  There  was  now  no  wind. 
Our  sail  hung  damp  and  flabby  ;  moisture,  silence, 
and  obscurity  were  upon  us. 

The  rest  of  the  day  we  sat  doleful,  waiting  for 
the  fog  to  lift  and  the  wind  to  rise.  My  fear  was 
that  we  might  drift  out  to  sea  or  upon  some  awk- 
ward shoals  ;  for,  though  everything  else  was  stiU, 
the  tide  would  move  us.  What  Walkirk  feared, 
if  anything,  I  do  not  know,  but  he  kept  up  a  good 
heart,  and  rigged  a  lantern  some  little  distance 
aloft,  which,  he  said,  might  possibly  keep  vessels 
from  running  into  us.  He  also  performed,  at  in- 
tervals, upon  a  comet  which  he  had  brought  with 
him.  This  was  a  very  wise  thing  to  do,  but,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  such  music,  in  a  fog,  de- 
pressed my  spirits ;  however,  as  it  seemed  quite 
suitable  to  the  condition  of  my  affairs  I  did  not  in- 
terfere, and  the  notes  of  Bonnie  Doon  or  My  Old 
Kentucky  Home  continued  to  be  soaked  into  the 
fog. 

Night  came  on  ;  the  fog  still  enveloped  us,  and 
the  situation  became  darker.  We  had  our  supper, 
and  I  turned  in,  with  the  understanding  that  at 
midnight  I  was  to  take  the  watch,  and  let  Walkirk 
sleep.  It  was  of  no  use  to  make  ourselves  any 
more  uncomfortable  than  need  be. 

It  was  between  two  and  three  o'clock  when  I  was 


THE  FLOATING  GBOCEBY.  173 

called  to  go  on  watch ;  and  after  I  had  been  sit- 
ting in  the  stern  smoking  and  thinking  for  an  hour 
or  more,  I  noticed  that  the  light  on  the  mast  had 
gone  out.  It  was,  however,  growing  lighter,  and, 
fancying  that  the  fog  was  thinner,  I  trusted  to  the 
coming  of  the  day  and  a  breeze,  and  made  no 
attempt  to  take  down  and  refill  the  lantern. 

Not  long  after  this  my  attention  was  attracted 
by  something  which  appeared  like  the  nucleus  of  a 
dark  cloud  forming  in  the  air,  a  short  distance 
above  the  water,  and  not  far  away  on  our  port 
quarter.  Rapidly  the  cloud  grew  bigger  and 
blacker.  It  moved  toward  us,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, before  I  had  time  to  collect  my  thoughts 
and  arouse  Walkirk,  it  was  almost  upon  us,  and 
then  I  saw  that  it  was  the  stern  of  a  vessel,  loom- 
ing high  above  my  head. 

I  gave  a  wild  shout ;  Walkirk  dashed  out  of  his 
bunk  ;  there  was  a  call  from  above  ;  then  I  felt  a 
shock,  and  our  boat  keeled  over  on  her  starboard 
side.  In  a  moment,  however,  she  receded  from 
the  other  vessel,  and  righted  herself.  I  do  not 
know  that  Walkirk  had  ever  read  in  a  book  what 
he  ought  to  do  in  such  an  emergency,  but  he  seized 
a  boat  hook  and  pushed  our  boat  away  from  the 
larger  vessel. 

"  That 's  right !  "  cried  a  voice  from  above. 
"  I  '11  heave  ye  a  line.  Keep  her  off  till  we  have 
drifted  past  ye,  and  then  I  '11  haul  ye  in." 

Slowly  the  larger  vessel,  which  was  not  very 
large,  but  which  drifted  faster  than  our  little  boat, 
floated  past  us,  until  we  were  in  tow  at  her  bow. 


174  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

We  could  now  see  the  form  of  a  man  leaning  over 
the  rail  of  the  vessel,  and  he  called  out  to  us  to 
know  if  we  were  damaged,  and  if  we  wanted  to 
come  aboard.  I  was  about  to  reply  that  we  were 
all  right,  and  would  remain  where  we  were,  when 
Walkirk  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  We  are  taking  in  water  by  the  bucketful,"  said 
he  ;  "  our  side  has  been  stove  in." 

"  Impossible !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  We  were  not 
struck  with  enough  force  for  that." 

But  examination  proved  that  he  was  correct. 
One  or  more  of  our  planks  had  been  broken  just 
below  the  water  line  and  our  boat  was  filling, 
though  not  rapidly. 

"  Stoved  in,  eh  ?  "  shouted  the  voice  from  above. 
"  Well,  ye  need  n't  sink.  I  '11  haul  yer  bowline 
taut,  and  I  '11  heave  ye  another  to  make  fast  to  yer 
stern.  That  '11  keep  yer  little  craft  afloat  until  ye 
can  unlade  her  ;  and  the  quicker  ye  get  yer  traps 
up  here  the  better,  if  ye  don't  want  'em  soaked." 

Acting  upon  these  suggestions,  Walkirk  and  I 
went  vigorously  to  work,  and  passed  up  our  be- 
longings as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the  man  above, 
who,  by  leaning  over  the  rails,  could  easily  reach 
them.  When  everything  movable  had  been  taken 
out  of  our  boat,  the  man  let  down  a  ladder  and  I 
climbed  on  board  the  larger  vessel,  after  which  he 
came  down  to  our  boat,  detached  the  boom,  gaff, 
and  sail,  and  unshipped  the  mast ;  all  of  which  we 
afterwards  hoisted  on  board  his  vessel  by  means 
of  a  block  and  tackle. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  our  new  companion,  "  ye  're 


THE  FLOATING  GBOCEBY.  175 

safe,  and  yer  boat  can  capsize  if  it 's  a  mind  to, 
but  it  can't  sink ;  and  when  it 's  better  daylight, 
and  Abner  's  on  deck,  perhaps  we  '11  rig  out  a 
couple  of  spars  and  haul  her  up  at  the  stern  ;  but 
there  's  time  enough  to  settle  all  that.  And  now 
I  'd  like  to  know  how  ye  came  to  be  driftin'  around 
here  with  no  light  out." 

I  explained,  but  added  I  had  not  seen  any  light 
on  his  vessel. 

"  Well,"  said  the  man,  looking  upward,  "  that 
light 's  out,  and  ten  to  one  it  was  out  when  we  run 
inter  ye.  I  'spect  Abner  did  n't  calkerlate  for 
fillin'  it  for  day  work  and  night  work  too." 

The  speaker  was  a  grizzled  man,  middle-aged, 
and  rather  too  plump  for  a  sailor.  He  had  a 
genial,  good-natured  countenance,  and  so  far  as  I 
could  see  was  the  only  occupant  of  the  vessel. 

His  craft  was  truly  a  peculiar  one.  It  was 
sloop-rigged,  and  on  the  after  part  of  the  deck,  oc- 
cupying about  one  third  of  the  length  of  the  vessel, 
was  a  structure  resembling  a  small  one-storied 
house,  which  rose  high  above  the  rest  of  the  deck, 
like  the  poop  of  an  old-fashioned  man-of-war.  In 
the  gable  end  of  this  house,  which  faced  upon  the 
deck,  there  was  a  window  and  a  door.  The  boom 
of  the  mast  was  rigged  high  enough  to  allow  it  to 
sweep  over  the  roof. 

"  I  reckon  you  gents  think  this  is  a  queer  kind 
of  a  craft,"  said  the  man,  with  a  grin  of  pleasure 
at  our  evident  curiosity ;  "and  if  ye  think  that,  ye 
are  about  right,  for  there  is  n't  jist  such  another 
one  as  far  as  I  know.     This  is  a  floating  grocery, 


176  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

and  I  am  captain  of  the  sloop  or  keeper  of  the 
store,  jist  as  it  happens.  In  that  house  there  is  a 
good  stock  of  flour,  sugar,  feed,  trimmings,  no- 
tions, and  small  dry  goods,  with  some  tinware  and 
pottery,  and  a  lot  of  other  things  which  you  com- 
monly find  in  a  country  grocery  store.  I  have 
got  the  trade  of  about  half  the  families  in  this 
bay  ;  all  of  them  on  the  islands,  and  a  good  many 
of  them  on  the  mainland,  especially  sech  as  has 
piers  of  their  own.  I  have  regular  days  for  touch- 
ing at  all  the  different  p'ints ;  and  it  is  a  mighty 
nice  thing,  I  can  tell  ye,  to  have  yer  grocery  store 
come  round  to  ye  instead  of  yer  having  to  go  to  it, 
especially  if  ye  live  on  an  island  or  out  in  the 
country." 

Walkirk  and  I  were  very  much  interested  in 
this  floating  grocery  store,  which  was  an  entirely 
novel  thing  to  us,  and  we  asked  a  good  many  ques- 
tions about  it. 

"  There 's  only  me  and  Abner  aboard,"  said  the 
grocer-skipper,  "  but  that  's  enough,  for  we  do  a 
good  deal  more  anchorin'  than  sailin'.  Abner, 
he  's  head  clerk,  and  don't  pretend  to  be  no  sailor 
at  all ;  but  he  lays  a  hold  of  anythin'  I  tell  him  to, 
and  that 's  all  I  ask  of  him  in  the  sailorin'  line. 
But  he  is  first  class  behind  the  counter,  I  can  tell 
ye,  and  in  keepin'  the  books  I  could  n't  find  no- 
body like  Abner,  —  not  in  this  State.  Now  it 
may  strike  ye,  gents,  that  I  am  not  much  of  a 
sailor  neither,  to  be  driftin'  about  here  at  night  in 
this  fog  instead  of  anchprin'  and  tootin'  a  foghorn  ; 
but  ye   see,  I  did  anchor  in  the  fore  part  of  the 


THE  FLOATING  GROCERY.  177 

night,  and  after  Abner  had  gone  to  his  bunk  —  we 
don't  keep  regular  watches,  but  kinder  divide  the 
night  between  us,  when  we  are  out  on  the  bay, 
which  is  n't  common,  for  we  like  to  tie  up  at  night, 
and  do  our  sailin'  in  the  daytime  —  it  struck  me 
that  as  the  tide  was  runnin'  out  we  might  as  well 
let  it  take  us  to  Simpson's  Bar,  which,  if  ye  don't 
know  this  bay,  is  a  big  shallow  place,  where  there 
is  always  water  enough  for  us,  bein'  a  good  deal 
on  the  flat-bottomed  order,  but  where  almost  any 
steamin'  craft  at  low  tide  would  stick  in  the  mud 
before  they  could  run  into  us.  So  thinks  I,  If  we 
want  to  get  on  in  the  direction  of  Widder  Kinley's 
(whose  is  the  last  house  I  serve  down  the  bay), 
and  to  feel  safe  besides,  we  had  better  up  anchor, 
and  I  upped  it.  But  I  had  ought  to  remembered 
about  that  light ;  it  was  n't  the  square  thing  to  be 
driftin'  about  without  the  light,  no  more  fur  me 
than  fur  ye.  I  've  sounded  a  good  many  times, 
but  we  don't  seem  to  have  reached  the  bar  yet.  It 
must  be  pretty  near  time  for  Abner  to  turn  out," 
and  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Your  assistant  must  be  a  sound  sleeper,"  I 
remarked. 

"  Yes,  he  is,"  replied  the  man.  "  He  needs  lots 
of  sleep,  and  I  make  it  a  p'int  to  give  it  to  him. 
If  it  is  n't  positively  necessary,  I  don't  wake  him 
up  until  the  regular  time.  Of  course,  if  it  had 
been  our  boat  that  had  been  stoved  in,  and  she 
had  been  like  to  sink,  I  'd  have  called  Abner ;  but 
as  it  was  yer  boat,  and  none  of  us  was  in  no  danger, 
I  did  n't  call  him.     Here  he  is,  though,  on  time." 


178  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

At  this,  a  tall,  lean  man,  not  quite  so  much 
grizzled  as  the  other,  made  his  appearance  on  deck. 
He  gazed  from  one  to  the  other  of  us,  and  upon 
our  various  belongings,  which  were  strewn  upon 
the  deck,  with  undisguised  amazement. 

His  companion  laughed  aloud.  "  I  don't  won- 
der, Abner,"  he  cried,  "  that  ye  open  yer  eyes ; 
't  ain'^t  often  two  gentlemen  come  on  board  in  the 
night,  bag  and  baggage ;  but  these  two  stoved  in 
their  boat  agin  our  rudder,  and  here  they  are,  with 
their  craft  triced  up  to  keep  her  from  sinkin'." 

Abner  made  no  answer,  but  walked  to  the  side 
of  the  vessel,  looked  over,  and  satisfied  himself 
that  this  last  statement  was  correct. 

"  Capt'n  Jabe,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  other, 
"  we  can't  sail  much,  can  we,  with  that  thing  hang- 
in'  there  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  Abner,"  replied  the  captain,  "  we 
are  not  sailin'  at  the  present  time,  —  we  are  drift- 
in'  ;  for  it  is  my  idee  to  drop  anchor  as  soon  as 
we  get  to  Simpson's  Bar,  and  this  tide  is  bound  to 
carry  us  over  it  if  we  wait  long  enough,  so  we 
must  keep  soundin',  and  not  slip  over  without 
knowin'  it." 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  Abner,  "  that  we  should 
save  a  lot  of  trouble  if  we  should  put  the  anchor 
out  and  let  it  hang ;  then,  when  we  come  to  the 
bar,  she  '11  ketch  and  fetch  us  up  without  our 
havin'  it  on  our  minds." 

"  You  see,  gents,"  said  Captain  Jabe  to  us, 
"  Abner  don't  pretend  to  be  no  sailor,  but  he 's 
got  his  idees  about  navigation,  for  all  that." 


THE  FLOATING  GROCERY.  179, 

Abner  took  no  notice  of  this  remark.  "  Capt'n," 
said  he,  "  does  these  gents  want  to  turn  in  ?  " 

"  Not  till  they  have  had  some  breakfast,"  replied 
Captain  Jabe,  and  we  assented. 

"All  right,"  said  Abner,  "I'll  tackle  the 
grub,"  and,  opening  the  door  of  the  grocery  store, 
he  went  inside.  In  a  few  minutes  he  reappeared. 
"  Capt'n,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  which  he  intended 
to  be  an  aside,  "  are  you  goin'  to  count  'em  as 
mealers,  or  as  if  they  was  visitin'  the  family  ?  " 

Captain  Jabe  laughed.  "  Well,  Abner,"  said 
he,  "  I  guess  we  will  count  them  as  mealers,  though 
I  don't  intend  to  make  no  charge." 

Abner  nodded,  and  again  entered  the  little 
house. 

"  What  are  mealers  ?  "  I  asked  of  the  captain. 

"  In  this  part  of  the  country,"  he  answered, 
"  there  's  a  good  many  city  folks  comes  for  the 
summer,  and  they  take  houses;  but  they  don't 
want  the  trouble  of  cookin',  so  they  make  a  con- 
tract with  some  one  livin'  near  to  give  them  their 
meals  regular,  and  this  sort  of  folks  goes  by  the 
general  name  of  mealers.  What  Abner  wanted 
to  know  fur  was  about  openin'  the  cans.  You  see, 
most  of  our  victuals  is  in  cans,  and  if  Abner 
knowed  you  was  regular  payin'  mealers  he  would 
open  fresh  ones ;  but  if  you  was  visitin'  the  family, 
he'd  make  you  help  eat  up  what  was  left  in  the 
cans,  just  as  we  do  ourselves." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  thrifty  Abner  had 
given  us  a  substantial  breakfast ;  and  then  Wal- 
kirk  and  I  were  glad  to  take  possession  of  a  spare 


180  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

couple  of  bunks,  for  we  were  tired  and  sleepy,  and 
the  monotonous  fog  still  hung  around  us. 

It  was  about  noon  when  I  waked  and  went  on 
deck,  where  I  found  Walkirk,  Captain  Jabe,  and 
Abner  engaged  in  consultation.  There  was  a 
breeze  blowing,  and  every  particle  of  fog  had  dis- 
appeared. 

"  We've  been  considerin',''  said  the  captain,  ad- 
dressing me,  "  what 's  the  best  thing  to  do  with 
yer  boat ;  there  's  no  use  tryin'  to  tinker  her  up, 
for  she  has  got  a  bad  hole  in  her,  and  it  is  our 
fault,  too.  One  of  the  iron  bands  on  our  rudder 
got  broke  and  sprung  out  a  good  while  ago,  and 
it  must  have  been  the  sharp  end  of  that  which 
punched  into  yer  boat  when  we  drifted  down  on 
her.  We  ain't  got  no  tackle  suitable  to  h'ist  her 
on  board,  and  as  to  towin'  her,  —  a  big  boat  like 
that,  full  of  water,  —  't  ain't  possible.  We  've 
lost  a  lot  of  time  already,  and  now  there  's  a  good 
wind  and  we  are  bound  to  make  the  best  of  it ;  so 
me  and  Abner  thinks  the  best  thing  ye  can  do  is 
to  sink  yer  boat  right  here  on  the  bar  where  we 
are  now  anchored,  having  struck  it  all  right,  as  ye 
see,  and  mark  the  spot  with  an  oil-cag.  Anybody 
that  knows  this  bay  can  come  and  git  her  if  she  is 
on  Simpson's  Bar,  buoyed  with  an  oil-cag.'* 

I  was  sorry  that  we  should  not  be  able  to  repair 
our  boat  and  continue  our  trip  in  her,  but  I  saw 
that  this  would  be  impossible,  and  I  asked  Captain 
Jabe  if  he  could  take  us  to  Brimley. 

"  I  can  do  that,"  he  answered,  "  but  not  straight. 
I  have  got  fust  to  sail  over  to  Widder  Kinley's, 


THE  FLOATING  GROCERY.  181 

which  is  on  that  p'int  which  ye  can  just  see  over 
there  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  where  I  was 
due  yesterday  afternoon.  Then  I  've  got  to  touch 
at  three  or  four  other  places  along  the  east  shore ; 
and  then,  if  this  wind  holds,  I  guess  I  can  git 
across  the  bay  to  my  own  house,  where  I  have  got 
to  lay  up  all  day  to-morrow.  The  next  day  is 
Saturday,  and  then  I  am  bound  to  be  in  Brimley 
to  take  in  stock.  There  ye  two  gents  can  take 
the  cars  for  wherever  ye  want  to  go ;  and  if  ye 
choose  to  give  me  the  job  of  raisin'  yer  boat  and 
sendin'  it  to  its  owners,  I  '11  do  it  for  ye  as  soon 
as  I  can  fix  things  suitable,  and  will  charge  ye  just 
half  price  for  the  job,  considerin'  that  nuther  of 
us  had  our  lights  out,  and  we  ought  to  share  dam- 
ages." 

I  agreed  to  the  proposed  disposition  of  our  boat, 
and  asked  Captain  Jabe  if  I  could  not  hire  him  to 
take  us  direct  to  Brimley. 

"  No,  sir !  "  he  answered.  "  I  never  pass  by 
my  customers,  especially  Widder  Kinley,  for  she 
is  the  farthest  off  of  any  of  them." 

"  And  she  must  be  lookin'  out  sharp  for  us,  too," 
said  Abner,  "  for  she  bakes  Thursdays,  and  she 
ought  to  sot  her  bread  last  night." 

"  And  I  am  a  great  deal  afeard,"  continued 
Captain  Jabe,  "  that  her  yeast  cakes  won't  be  any 
too  fresh  when  she  gits  'em  ;  and  the  quicker  that 
boat's  down  to  the  bottom  and  our  anchor  up  off 
the  bottom,  the  better  it  will  be  for  the  Widder 
Kinley's  batch  of  bread." 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  an  empty  oil-keg 


182  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

was  moored  over  the  spot  where  our  boat  lay  upon 
the  sandy  bar,  and  we  were  sailing  as  fast  as  such 
an  unwieldy  vessel,  with  her  mainsail  permanently 
reefed  above  the  roof  of  her  grocery  store,  could 
be  expected  to  sail.  Our  tacks  were  long  and 
numerous,  and  although  Walkirk  and  I  lent  a 
hand  whenever  there  was  occasion  for  it,  and  al- 
though there  was  a  fair  wind,  the  distant  point 
rose  but  slowly  upon  our  horizon. 

"  1  hope,"  I  remarked  to  Captain  Jabe,  "  that 
the  Widow  Kinley  will  buy  a  good  bill  of  you, 
after  you  have  taken  all  this  trouble  to  get  to  her." 

"  Dunno,"  said  he ;  "  she  don't  generally  take 
more  than  she  has  ordered  the  week  before,  and 
all  she  has  ordered  this  time  is  two  yeast  cakes." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  exclaimed  Walkirk,  "  that  you 
are  taking  all  this  time  and  trouble  to  deliver  two 
yeast  cakes,  worth,  I  suppose,  four  cents  ?  " 

"That's  the  price  on  'em,"  said  the  captain; 
"but  if  the  Widder  Kinley  didn't  git  'em  she 
would  n't  do  no  bakin'  this  week,  and  that  would 
upset  her  housekeepin'  keel  up." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  delivered  the  yeast 
cakes  to  the  Widow  Kinley,  whom  we  found  in  a 
state  of  nervous  agitation,  having  begun  to  fear 
that  another  night  would  pass  without  her  bread 
being  "  sot."  Then  we  coasted  along  the  shore, 
tying  up  at  various  little  piers,  where  the  small 
farmers'  and  fishermen's  families  came  on  board 
to  make  purchases. 

Now  Abner  was  in  his  glory.  Wearing  a  long 
apron  made  of  blue-and-white  bed-ticking,  he  stood 


THE  FLOATING  GROCERY.  183 

behind  the  counter  in  the  little  house  on  deck,  and 
appeared  to  be  much  more  at  ease  weighing  sugar, 
coffee,  and  flour  than  in  assisting  to  weigh  anchor. 
I  seated  myself  in  the  corner  of  this  floating  gro- 
cery, crowded,  shelves,  floor,  and  counter,  with 
such  goods  as  might  be  expected  to  be  found  at 
an  ordinary  country  store. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  nearly  every  one  who  lived 
near  the  points  at  which  we  touched  came  on  board 
the  floating  grocery,  but  most  of  them  came  to 
talk,  and  not  to  buy.  Many  of  those  who  did 
make  purchases  brought  farm  produce  or  fish,  with 
which  to  "trade."  It  was  an  interesting  spectacle, 
and  amused  me.  During  our  slow  progress  from 
one  place  to  another.  Captain  Jabe  told  me  of  an 
old  woman  who  once  offered  him  an  Qgg  which  she 
wished  to  take  out  in  groceries,  half  in  tea  and 
half  in  snuff. 

"  We  don't  often  do  business  down  as  fine  as 
that,"  said  the  captain ;  "  but  then,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  don't  calkerlate  to  supply  hotels,  and 
could  n't  if  we  wanted  to." 

Walkirk  appeared  uneasy  at  the  detentions 
which  still  awaited  us. 

"  Could  n't  you  take  us  straight  on  to  Brimley," 
he  asked  of  the  captain,  "  and  sail  back  to  your 
home  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  No,  sir !  "  answered  Captain  Jabe,  with  much 
decision.  "  My  old  woman  'spects  me  to-night,  — 
in  p'int  of  fact,  she  'spected  me  a  good  deal  before 
night,  —  and  I  am  not  goin'  to  have  her  thinkin' 
I  am  run  down  in  a  fog,  and  am  now  engaged  in 


184  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

feedin'  the  sharks.  There  is  to  be  a  quiltin'  party 
at  our  house  to-morrer  arternoon,  and  there  's  a  lot 
to  be  done  to  get  ready  for  it.  Abner  and  me 
will  have  to  set  up  pretty  late  this  night,  I  can  tell 
yer!" 

"  Is  there  no  way  of  getting  to  the  railroad/'  I 
asked,  "  but  by  your  boat  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Captain  Jabe,  "  I  can't  see  that 
there  is.  Pretty  nigh  all  the  folks  that  wiU  be  at 
the  bee  to-morrow  will  come  in  boats.  None  of 
them  live  nigh- to  a  railroad  station,  and  if  they 
did,  and  could  take  ye  back  with  'em,  they  would  n't 
leave  early  enough  for  ye  to  ketch  the  last  train : 
so  the  best  thing  ye  can  do  is  to  stick  by  me,  and 
I  '11  guarantee  to  git  ye  over  to  Brimley  in  time 
for  the  mornin'  train  on  Saturday." 


XXIX. 

FANTASY  ? 

We  reached  Captain  Jabe's  house  a  little  after 
nightfall,  and  received  a  hearty  welcome  and  a 
good  supper  from  his  wife.  Walkirk  and  I  slept 
on  board  the  floating  grocery,  as  also  did  Abner ; 
that  is  to  say,  if  he  slept  at  all,  for  he  and  the  cap- 
tain were  busy  at  the  house  when  we  retired.  The 
quilting  party,  we  were  informed,  was  expected  to 
be  a  grand  affair,  provided,  of  course,  there  were 
no  signs  of  rain;  for  country  people  are  not  ex- 
pected to  venture  out  for  pleasure  in  rainy  weather. 

Captain  Jabe's  house,  as  we  saw  it  the  next 
morning,  was  a  good-sized  waterside  farmhouse, 
wide-spreading  and  low-roofed.  The  place  had  a 
sort  of  amphibious  appearance,  as  if  depending  for 
its  maintenance  equally  upon  the  land  and  the 
water.  The  house  stood  a  little  distance  back  from 
the  narrow  beach,  and  in  its  front  yard  a  net  was 
hung  to  dry  and  to  be  mended ;  a  small  boat,  in 
course  of  repair,  lay  upon  some  rude  stocks,  while 
bits  of  chain,  an  old  anchor,  several  broken  oars, 
and  other  nautical  accessories  were  scattered  here 
and  there. 

At  the  back  of  the  house,  however,  there  was 
nothing  about  the  barn,  the  cow-yard,  the  chicken- 


186  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

yard,  and  the  haystacks  to  indicate  that  Captain 
Jabe  was  anything  more  than  a  thrifty  small- 
farmer.  But,  farmer  and  sailor  as  he  was.  Cap- 
tain Jabe  was  none  the  less  a  grocer,  and  I  think 
to  this  avocation  he  gave  his  chief  attention. 

He  took  me  into  a  small  room  by  the  side  of  his 
kitchen,  and  showed  me  what  he  called  his  "  sinkin' 
fund  stock." 

"  Here,  ye  see,"  said  he,  "  is  canned  fruit  and 
wegetables,  smoked  and  salted  meat  and  fish, 
cheeses,  biscuits-,  and  a  lot  of  other  things  that 
will  keep.  None  of  these  is  this  year's  goods. 
Some  of  them  have  been  left  over  from  last  year, 
some  from  the  year  before  that,  and  some  is  still 
older.  Whenever  I  git  a  little  short,  I  put  a  lot 
of  these  goods  on  board  and  seU  'em  with  the  dis- 
count off,  —  twenty  per  cent  for  last  year's  stock, 
forty  per  cent  off  for  the  year  before  that,  and  so 
on  back.  So,  ye  see,  if  I  have  got  anythin'  on 
hand  that  is  five  years  old,  I  am  bound  to  give  it 
away  for  nothin',  if  I  stick  to  my  principles.  At 
fust  me  and  my  old  woman  tried  eatin'  what  was 
left  over ;  but  discount  is  n't  no  good  to  her,  and 
she  wants  the  best  victuals  that  is  goin'.  Did  ye 
ever  think,  sir,  what  this  world  would  be  without 
canned  victuals  ?  " 

I  assured  him  that  I  never  had,  but  would  try 
to  do  so  if  possible. 

The  day  proved  to  be  a  very  fine  one,  and  early 
in  the  afternoon  the  people  invited  to  the  quilting 
party  began  to  arrive,  and  by  two  o'clock  the  affair 
was  in  full  swing.     The  quilting  frame  was  set  up 


FANTASY?  187 

in  a  large  chamber  at  the  right  of  the  parlor,  the 
"  comfortable  "  to  be  quilted  was  stretched  upon 
it,  and  at  the  four  sides  sat  as  many  matrons  and 
elderly  maidens  as  could  crowd  together,  each  with 
needle  in  hand.  Long  cords  rubbed  with  chalk 
were  snapped  upon  the  surface  of  the  quilt  to  mark 
out  the  lines  to  be  stitched ;  wax,  thread,  and  scis- 
sors were  passed  from  one  to  another ;  and  every 
woman  began  to  sew  and  to  talk  as  fast  as  she 
could. 

I  stood  in  the  doorway  and  watched  this  scene 
with  considerable  interest,  for  I  had  never  before 
seen  anything  of  the  kind.  The  quilting  ladies,  to 
every  one  of  whom  I  had  been  presented,  cordially 
invited  me  to  enter  and  take  a  seat  with  them; 
some  of  the  more  facetious  offering  to  vacate  their 
places  in  my  favor,  and,  more  than  that,  to  show 
me  how  to  thread  and  use  a  needle.  I  found  from 
their  remarks  that  it  was  rather  an  unusual  thing 
for  a  man  to  take  an  interest  in  this  part  of  the 
proceedings  at  a  quilting  party. 

After  a  time  I  went  into  the  parlor,  which  room 
was  then  occupied  by  the  young  men  and  young 
women.  It  was  ever  so  much  pleasanter  out-of- 
doors  than  in  this  somewhat  gloomy  and  decidedly 
stuffy  parlor ;  but  as  these  people  were  guests  at 
a  quilting  party,  they  knew  it  was  proper  to  enjoy 
themselves  within  the  house  to  which  they  had 
been  invited. 

The  young  folks  were  not  nearly  so  lively  and 
animated  as  their  elders  in  the  next  room,  but  they 
had  just  begun  to  play  a  game  which  could  be 


188  THE  HOUSE  OF  AlABTHA. 

played  in  the  house,  and  in  which  every  one  could 
participate,  and  as  the  afternoon  wore  on  they 
would  doubtless  become  warmed  up.  Walkirk 
was  making  the  best  of  it,  and  had  entered  the 
game ;  but  I  declined  aU  invitations  to  do  so. 

Before  long  there  was  some  laughing  and  a  good 
deal  of  romping,  and  I  fancied  that  the  girls,  some 
of  whom  were  not  at  aU  bad  looking,  would  have 
been  pleased  if  I  had  joined  in  the  sport.  But 
this  did  not  suit  me ;  I  stiU  was,  as  I  declared  my- 
self, a  Lover  in  -Check,  and  the  society  of  young 
women  was  not  attractive  to  me. 

I  went  outside,  where  a  group  of  elderly  men 
were  discussing  the  tax  rates ;  and  after  remaining 
a  few  minutes  with  them,  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  pleasantest  thing  I  could  do  would  be  to 
take  a  stroll  over  the  country. 

I  made  my  way  over  some  rolling  meadow  land, 
where  three  or  four  of  Captain  Jabe's  cows  were 
carefully  selecting  the  edible  portions  of  the  herb- 
age, and,  having  passed  the  crest  of  a  rounded  hill, 
I  found  myself  on  the  edge  of  a  piec6  of  woodland, 
which  seemed  to  be  of  considerable  extent.  This 
suited  my  mood  exactly,  and  I  was  soon  following 
the  curves  and  bends  of  a  rude  roadway,  in  places 
almost  overgrown  by  vines  and  bushes,  which  led 
me  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  shadowed  recesses 
of  the  woods.  It  was  now  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon.  The  sun  was  still  well  up,  and  out 
in  the  open  the  day  was  warm  for  an  up-and-down- 
hill  stroll ;  but  here  in  the  woods  it  was  cool  and 
quiet,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the  pleasant  summer 


FANTASY?  189 

smells  that  come  from  the  trees,  the  leaves,  and 
the  very  earth  of  the  woods. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  came  upon  a  stream  of 
a  character  that  somewhat  surprised  me.  It  was 
not  very  wide,  for  at  this  spot  the  trees  met  above ' 
it,  darkening  its  waters  with  their  quivering 
shadows ;  but  it  was  evidently  deep,  much  deeper 
than  the  woodland  streams  of  its  size  to  which  I 
had  been  accustomed.  I  would  have  liked  to  cross 
it  and  continue  my  walk,  but  I  saw  no  way  of  get- 
ting over.  With  a  broken  branch  I  sounded  the 
water  near  the  shore,  and  found  it  over  two  feet 
deep ;  and  as  it  was  no  doubt  deeper  toward  the 
middle,  I  gave  up  the  idea  of  reaching  the  other 
side.  But  as  I  had  no  particular  reason  for  get- 
ting over,  especially  as  I  should  be  obliged  to  get 
back  again,  I  contented  myself  easily  with  my 
present  situation,  and,  taking  a  seat  on  the  up- 
heaved root  of  a  large  tree,  I  lighted  a  cigar,  and 
gave  myself  up  to  the  delights  of  this  charming 
solitude.  I  was  glad  to  be  away  from  everybody, 
even  from  "Walkirk,  the  comp?aion  I  had  chosen 
for  my  summer  journey. 

There  were  insects  gently  buzzing  in  the  soft 
summer  air ;  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream,  in  a 
spot  unshadowed  by  the  trees,  the  water  was  spar- 
kling in  the  sunlight,  and  every  little  puff  of  the  fit- 
ful breeze  brought  to  me  the  smeU  of  wild  grapes, 
from  vines  which  hung  from  the  trees  so  low  that 
they  almost  touched  the  water.  It  was  very  still 
in  these  woods.  I  heard  nothing  but  the  gently 
rustling  leaves,  the  faint  buzzing  in  the  air,  and  an 


190  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

occasional  tiny  splash  made  by  some  small  fish 
skimming  near  the  surface  of  the  stream.  When 
I  sat  down  on  the  root  of  the  tree,  I  intended  to 
think,  reflect,  make  plans,  determine  what  I  should 
do  next ;  but  I  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  simply 
sat  and  drank  in  the  loveliness  of  this  woodland 
scene. 

The  stream  curved  away  from  me  on  either  hand, 
and  the  short  stretch  of  it  which  I  could  see  to  the 
left  seemed  to  come  out  of  the  very  heart  of  the 
woods.  Suddenly  I  heard  in  this  direction  a  faint 
regular  sound  in  the  water,  as  if  some  animal  were 
swimming.  I  could  not  see  anything,  but  as  the 
sounds  grew  stronger  I  knew  that  it  must  be  ap- 
proaching. I  did  not  know  much  of  the  aquatic 
animals  in  this  region;  perhaps  it  might  be  an 
otter,  a  muskrat,  I  knew  not  what.  But,  whatever 
it  was,  I  wanted  to  see  it,  and,  putting  down  my 
cigar,  I  slipped  softly  behind  the  tree  at  whose 
foot  I  had  been  sitting. 

Now  the  swimming  object  was  in  view,  coming 
rapidly  toward  me  down  the  middle  of  the  stream. 
There  was  but  little  of  it  above  the  water,  and  the 
shadows  were  so  heavy  that  I  could  see  nothing 
but  a  dark  point,  with  a  bright  ripple  glancing 
away  from  it  on  either  side.  Nearer  and  nearer  it 
came  into  the  better  lighted  portion  of  the  stream. 
It  was  not  a  small  animal.  The  ripples  it  made 
were  strong,  and  ran  out  in  long  lines ;  its  strokes 
were  vigorous ;  the  head  that  I  saw  grew  larger 
and  larger.  Steadily  it  came  on ;  it  reached  the 
spot  in  the  clear  light  ot  the  sun.     It  was  the  head 


FANTASY?  191 

of  a  human  swimmer.  On  the  side  nearest  me,  I 
could  see,  under  the  water,  the  strokes  of  a  dark- 
clad  arm.  Above  the  water  was  only  a  face,  turned 
toward  me  and  upward.  A  mass  of  long  hair 
swept  away  from  it,  its  blue  eyes  gazed  dreamily 
into  the  treetops;  for  a  moment  the  sunbeams 
touched  its  features.  My  heart  stopped  beating,  — 
it  was  the  face  of  Sylvia. 

Another  stroke  and  it  had  passed  into  the 
shadow.  The  silvery  ripples  came  from  it  to  me, 
losing  themselves  against  the  shore.  It  passed  on 
and  on,  away  from  me.  I  made  one  step  from  be- 
hind the  tree ;  then  suddenly  stopped.  On  went 
the  head  and  upturned  face,  touched  once  more  by 
a  gleam  of  light,  and  then  it  disappeared  around  a 
little  bluff  crowned  with  a  mass  of  shrubbery  and 
vines.  I  listened,  breathless  ;  the  sounds  of  the 
strokes  died  away.     AU  was  still  again. 

For  some  minutes  I  stood,  bewildered,  dazed, 
doubting  whether  I  had  been  awake  or  dreaming. 
My  mind  could  not  grasp  what  had  happened,  — 
even  my  imagination  could  not  help  me.  But  one 
thing  I  knew :  whether  this  had  all  been  real,  or 
whether  it  had  been  a  dream,  I  had  seen  the  face 
of  Sylvia.     This  I  knew  as  I  knew  I  lived. 

Slowly  I  came  away,  scarcely  knowing  how  I 
walked  or  where  I  emerged  from  the  woods,  and 
crossed  the  open  country  to  the  house  of  Captain 
Jabe. 


XXX. 

A    DISCOVERT. 

I  FOUND  the  quilting  party  at  supper.  I  could 
see  them  through  the  open  windows  of  the  large 
living-room,  and  I  heard  their  chatter  and  laughing 
when  I  was  still  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
house.  With  my  mind  quivering  with  the  emo- 
tions excited  by  what  had  happened  in  the  woods, 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  join  a  party  like 
this.  I  walked  around  the  barn  and  into  a  little 
orchard,  where,  between  two  gnarled  apple-trees, 
there  hung  an  old  hammock,  into  which  I  threw 
myself. 

There  I  lay,  piling  conjecture  and  supposition 
high  upon  each  other ;  but  not  at  all  could  I  con- 
jecture how  it  was  that  the  face  which  I  had  last 
seen  in  my  own  home,  under  the  gray  bonnet  of  a 
sister  of  Martha,  should  flash  upon  my  vision  in 
this  far-away  spot,  and  from  the  surface  of  a  wood- 
land stream. 

It  was  growing  dusky,  when  I  heard  a  loud 
whistle,  and  my  name  was  called.  I  whistled  in 
return,  and  in  a  few  moments  Walkirk  came  run- 
ning to  me. 

"  I  was  beginning  to  get  frightened,"  he  said. 
"I  have  been  looking  everywhere  for  you.     We 


A  DISCOVERY,  193 

have  had  supper,  and  the  party  is  breaking  up. 
There  is  no  moon  to-night,  and  the  people  must 
start  early  for  their  homes." 

"  Let  them  all  get  away,"  I  replied ;  "  and  when 
they  are  entirely  out  of  sight  and  hearing  let  me 
know,  and  I  '11  go  in  to  supper." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Walkirk,  hesitating,  "  that 
they  will  not  like  that.  You  know  these  country 
people  are  very  particular  about  leave-taking,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  I  answered.  "  I  don't  feel  at 
all  like  seeing  people  at  present.  You  can  go  and 
bid  them  good-by  in  my  name." 

"  As  an  under-study  ?  "  said  he,  smiling.  "  Well, 
if  I  can  tell  them  you  are  out  of  condition  and  not 
feeling  like  yourself,  that  will  make  it  all  right, 
and  will  also  explain  why  you  kept  yourself  away 
all  the  afternoon."  With  this  he  left  me,  promis- 
ing to  return  when  the  guests  had  departed.  It 
was  a  long  time  before  he  came  back,  and  it  was 
then  really  dark. 

"  Your  supper  is  awaiting  you,"  he  announced, 
"  and  I  am  afraid  that  Mrs.  Jabe  is  contemplating 
a  hot  footbath  and  some  sort  of  herb  tea ;  and  we 
ought  to  turn  in  pretty  early  to-night,  for  Captain 
Jabe  has  announced  that  he  will  sail  between  four 
and  five  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  sitting  up  in  the  hammock, 
"  I  have  no  intention  of  sailing  to-morrow.  I  pre- 
fer to  stay  here  for  a  time  ;  I  don't  know  for  how 
long." 

"  Stay  here  !  "  exclaimed  Walkirk.     "  What  on 


194  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

earth  can  you  do  here  ?  "What  possible  attraction 
can  this  place  have  ?  " 

"  My  good  "Walkirk,"  I  said,  rising  and  walking 
toward  the  house,  "  I  am  here,  and  here  I  want  to 
stay.  Reasons  are  the  most  awkward  things  in  the 
world.  They  seldom  fit ;  let  us  drop  them.  Per- 
haps, if  Captain  and  Mrs.  Jabe  think  I  did  not 
treat  their  company  with  proper  courtesy,  they 
may  feel  that  I  am  making  amends  by  desiring 
to  stay  with  them.  Any  way,  I  am  going  to 
stay." 

Captain  Jabe  and  his  wife  were  very  much  sur- 
prised when  I  announced  my  intention  of  remain- 
ing at  their  place  for  a  day  or  two  longer,  but,  as 
I  had  surmised,  they  were  also  flattered. 

"  This  is  a  quiet  place,"  said  the  captain,  "  but 
as  ye  ain't  very  well,  and  seem  to  like  to  keep  to 
yerself ,  I  don't  see  why  it  should  n't  suit  ye. 
There  's  plenty  o'  good  air,  and  fishin'  if  ye  want 
it,  and  we  can  accommodate  ye  and  give  ye  plenty 
to  eat.  I  shall  be  back  to-morrow  night,  and  ex- 
pect to  stay  home  over  Sunday  myself." 

Walkirk  was  very  much  dissatisfied,  and  made  a 
strong  attempt  to  turn  me  from  my  purpose.  "  If 
you  intend  to  do  anything  in  regard  to  Miss  Ray- 
nor,"  he  said,  "  I  really  think  you  ought  to  get 
home  as  soon  as  you  can.  Mother  Anastasia  is 
now  having  everything  her  own  way,  you  know." 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  you  blow  hot  and  cold.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  you,  I  should  be  home  this 
minute ;  but  you  dissuaded  me  from  a  hot  chase 
after  Mother  Anastasia,  and  now  my  ardor  for  the 


A  DISCOVERY.  195 

chase  has  cooled,  and  I  am  quite  inclined  to  let 
that  sport  wait." 

Walkirk  looked  at  me  inquiringly.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  he  did  not  understand  my  mood. 

The  next  morning  I  found  myself  in  a  quandary, 
I  had  determined  to  make  a  long  tramp  inland, 
and  if  necessary  to  ford  or  swim  streams,  and  I 
could  not  determine  whether  or  not  it  would  be 
wise  to  take  Walkirk  with  me.  I  concluded  at 
last  to  take  him ;  it  would  be  awkward  to  leave 
him  behind,  and  he  might  be  of  use.  We  pro- 
vided ourselves  with  fishing  rods  and  tackle  and 
two  pairs  of  wading-boots,  as  well  as  with  a  luncheon 
basket,  well  filled  by  Mrs.  Jabe,  and  started  on 
our  expedition.     I  felt  in  remarkably  good  spirits. 

I  had  formed  no  acceptable  hypothesis  in  regard 
to  what  I  had  seen  the  day  before,  but  I  was  go- 
ing to  do  something  better  than  that ;  I  was  going 
to  find  out  if  what  had  occurred  could  possibly 
be  real  and  actual.  If  I  should  be  convinced  that 
this  was  impossible,  then  I  intended  to  accept  the 
whole  affair  as  a  dream  which  had  taken  place 
during  an  unconscious  nap. 

When  we  reached  the  woodland  stream,  Wal- 
kirk gazed  about  him  with  satisfaction.  "  This 
looks  like  sport,"  he  said.  "  I  see  no  reason  why 
there  should  not  be  good  fishing  in  this  creek.  I 
did  not  suppose  we  should  find  such  pleasant  woods 
and  so  fine  a  stream  in  Captain  Jabe's  neighbor- 
hood." 

"  You  must  know,"  said  I,  "  that  I  have  a  talent 
for  exploration  and  discovery.     Had  it  not  been 


196  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

for  this  stream,  I  should  not  have  thought  of  such 
a  thing  as  allowing  Captain  Jabe  and  Abner  to 
sail  off  by  themselves  this  morning." 

"  Really,"  replied  Walkirk,  "  you  care  much 
more  for  angling  than  I  supposed." 

Truly  I  cared  very  little  for  angling,  but  I  had 
discovered  that  Walkirk  was  an  indefatigable  and 
patient  fisherman.  I  had  intended  that  he  should 
cross  the  stream  with  me,  but  it  now  occurred  to 
me  that  it  would  be  far  better  to  let  him  stay  on 
this  side,  while  I  pursued  my  researches  alone. 
Accordingly  I  proposed  that  he  should  fish  in  the 
part  of  the  stream  which  I  had  seen  the  day  be- 
fore, while  I  pressed  on  farther.  "  In  this  way," 
I  remarked  artfully,  "  we  shall  not  interfere  with 
each  other."  Had  I  supposed  that  there  was  the 
slightest  possibility  of  the  appearance  on  the  stream 
of  the  apparition  of  the  day  before,  I  should  have 
requested  Walkirk  to  fish  from  the  top  of  a  dis- 
tant tree.  But  I  had  no  fears  on  this  score.  If 
what  I  had  seen  had  been  a  phantasm,  my  under- 
study would  have  to  doze  to  see  it,  and  I  knew  he 
would  not  do  that ;  and  if  what  I  had  seen  was 
real,  it  would  not  appear  this  morning,  for  the 
water  was  too  low  for  swimming.  The  creek,  as  I 
now  perceived,  was  affected  by  the  tide,  and  its 
depth  was  very  much  less  than  on  the  preceding 
afternoon. 

I  turned  to  the  right,  and  followed  the  stream 
for  some  distance ;  now  walking  by  its  edge,  and 
now  obliged,  by  masses  of  undergrowth,  to  make 
a  detour  into  the  woods.     At   last  I  came  to  a 


A  DISCOVERT.  197 

spot  where  the  stream,  although  wide,  appearec^ 
shallow.  In  fact,  even  in  the  centre  I  could  see 
the  stones  at  the  bottom.  I  therefore  put  on  my 
wading-boots  and  boldly  crossed.  The  woods  here 
were  mostly  of  pine,  free  from  undergrowth,  and 
with  the  ground  softened  to  the  foot  by  a  thick 
layer  of  pine  needles. 

Now  that  I  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek, 
I  desired  to  make  my  way  out  of  the  woods,  which 
could  not,  I  imagined,  be  very  extensive.  To  dis- 
cover a  real  basis  for  yesterday's  vision,  I  believed 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  reach  open  coun- 
try. Leaving  the  stream  behind  me,  it  was  not 
long  before  I  came  to  a  rude  pathway ;  and  al- 
though this  seemed  to  follow  the  general  direction 
of  the  creek,  I  determined  to  turn  aside  from  the 
course  I  was  taking  and  follow  it.  After  walking 
for  nearly  a  mile,  sometimes  seeing  the  waters  of 
the  stream,  and  sometimes  entirely  losing  sight  of 
them,  I  found  the  path  making  an  abrupt  turn, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  was  out  of  the  woods. 

The  country  before  me  was  very  much  like  that 
about  Captain  Jabe's  residence.  There  were  low 
rolling  hills  covered  with  coarse  grass  and  ragged 
shrubbery,  with  here  and  there  a  cluster  of  trees. 
Not  a  sign  of  human  habitation  was  in  sight. 
Reaching  the  top  of  a  small  hill,  I  saw  at  my  right, 
and  not  very  far  before  me,  a  wide  expanse  of 
water.  This  I  concluded  must  be  the  bay,  al- 
though I  had  not  expected  to  see  it  in  this  direc- 
tion. 

I  went  down  the  hill  toward  the  shore.     "  If 


198  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

what  I  seek  is  in  reality,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  it  will 
naturally  love  to  live  somewhere  near  the  water." 
Near  the  beach  I  struck  a  path  again,  and  this  I 
followed,  my  mind  greatly  agitated  by  the  thoughts 
of  what  I  might  discover,  as  well  as  by  the  fear 
that  I  might  discover  nothing. 

After  a  walk  of  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I 
stopped  suddenly.  I  had  discovered  something. 
I  looked  about  me,  utterly  amazed.  I  was  on  the 
little  beach  which  the  Sand  Lady  had  assigned  to 
Walkirk  and  me  as  a  camping  ground. 

I  sat  down,  vainly  endeavoring  to  comprehend 
the  situation.  Out  of  the  mass  of  wild  supposi- 
tions and  conjectures  which  crowded  themselves 
into  my  mind  there  came  but  one  conviction,  and 
with  that  I  was  satisfied :  Sylvia  was  here. 

It  mattered  not  that  the  Sand  Lady  had  said 
that  hers  was  the  only  house  upon  the  island ;  it 
mattered  not  that  Captain  Jabe  had  said  nothing 
of  his  neighbor  ;  in  truth,  nothing  mattered.  One 
sister  of  the  House  of  Martha  had  come  to  this 
place  ;  why  not  another  ?  What  I  had  seen  in  the 
woods  had  been  no  fantasy.     Sylvia  was  here. 


XXXI. 

TAKING  UP  UNFINISHED  WORK. 

My  reasons  for  believing  that  Sylvia  was  on 
this  island  were  circumstantial,  it  is  true,  but  to 
me  they  were  entirely  conclusive,  and  the  vehement 
desire  of  my  soul  was  to  hasten  to  the  house  and 
ask  to  see  her.  But  I  did  not  feel  at  all  sure  that 
this  would  be  the  right  thing  to  do.  The  circum- 
stances of  this  case  were  unusual.  Sylvia  was  a 
sister  of  a  religious  house.  It  was  not  customary 
for  gentlemen  to  call  upon  such  sisters,  and  the 
lady  who  was  the  temporary  custodian  of  this  one 
might  resent  such  an  attempt. 

It  was,  however,  impossible  for  me  entirely  to 
restrain  my  impulses,  and  without  knowing  exactly 
what  I  intended  to  do  I  advanced  toward  the 
house.  Very  soon  I  saw  its  chimneys  above  the 
trees  which  partly  surrounded  it.  Then,  peeping 
under  cover  of  a  thicket,  I  went  still  nearer,  so 
that,  if  there  had  been  any  people  in  the  surround- 
ing grounds,  I  could  have  seen  them ;  but  I  saw 
no  one,  and  I  sat  down  on  a  log  and  waited.  It 
shamed  me  to  think  that  I  was  secretly  watching 
a  house,  but  despite  the  shame  I  continued  to  sit 
and  watch. 

There  was   the  flutter   of   drapery  on   a  little 


200  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

porch.  My  heart  beat  quickly,  my  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  spot ;  but  nothing  appeared  except  a 
maid  who  brought  out  some  towels,  which  she 
hung  on  a  bush  to  dry.  Then  again  I  watched 
and  watched. 

After  a  time  four  people  came  out  from  the 
house,  two  of  them  carrying  colored  parasols.  I 
knew  them  instantly.  There  was  the  Middle- Aged 
Man  of  the  Sea,  and  his  friend  the  Shell  Man ; 
and  there  was  the  Sand  Lady,  and  my  enemy  who 
called  herself  a 'Person.  They  went  off  toward 
the  little  pier.  Sylvia  was  not  with  them,  nor  did 
she  join  them.  They  entered  their  boat  and  sailed 
away.  They  were  going  fishing,  as  was  their  cus- 
tom. The  fact  that  Sylvia  was  not  with  them,  and 
that  no  one  of  them  had  stayed  behind  to  keep  her 
company,  caused  my  heart  to  fall.  In  cases  like 
mine,  it  takes  very  little  to  make  the  heart  fall. 
The  thought  forced  itself  into  my  mind  that  per- 
haps, after  all,  I  had  seen  a  vision,  and  had  been 
building  theories  on  dreams. 

Suddenly  the  shutter  of  an  upper  window 
opened,  and  I  saw  Sylvia  ! 

It  was  truly  Sylvia.  She  was  dressed  in  white, 
not  gray.  Her  hair  was  massed  upon  her  head. 
There  was  no  gray  bonnet.  She  looked  up  at  the 
sky,  then  at  the  trees,  and  withdrew. 

My  heart  was  beating  as  fast  as  it  pleased.  My 
face  was  glowing,  and  shame  had  been  annihi- 
lated. I  sat  and  watched.  Presently  a  door 
opened,  and  Sylvia  came  out. 

Now  I  rose  to  my  feet.     I  must  go  to  her.     It 


TAKING  UP  UNFINISHED  WOEK.         201 

misflit  not  be  honorable  to  take  her  at  this  disad- 
vantage,  but  there  are  moments  when  even  honor 
must  wait  for  a  decision  upon  its  case.  However, 
there  was  no  necessity  for  my  going  to  Sylvia ; 
she  was  coming  to  me. 

As  she  walked  directly  to  the  spot  where  I  stood, 
I  saw  Sylvia  as  I  had  seen  her  in  my  day-dreams, 
—  a  beautiful  girl,  dressed  as  a  beautiful  girl 
should  dress  in  summer  time.  In  one  hand  she 
carried  a  portfolio,  in  the  other  a  little  leathern 
case.  As  she  came  nearer,  I  saw  that  she  was 
attired  exactly  as  Mother  Anastasia  had  been 
dressed  when  I  met  her  here.  Nearer  she  came, 
but  still  she  did  not  see  me.  I  was  not  now  con- 
cealed, but  her  eyes  seemed  fixed  upon  the  path  in 
which  she  was  walking. 

When  she  was  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the 
thicket  through  which  her  path  would  lead,  I  ad- 
vanced to  meet  her.  I  tried  to  appear  cool  and 
composed,  but  I  am  afraid  my  success  was  slight. 
As  for  Sylvia,  she  stopped  abruptly,  and  dropped 
her  leathern  case.  I  think  that  at  first  she  did 
not  recognize  me,  and  was  on  the  point  of  scream- 
ing. Suddenly  to  come  upon  a  man  in  the  midst 
of  these  solitudes  was  indeed  startling. 

Quickly,  however,  I  made  myself  known,  and 
her  expression  of  fright  changed  to  one  of  amaze- 
ment. I  am  happy  to  say  that  she  took  the  hand 
I  offered  her,  though  she  seemed  to  have  no  words 
with  which  to  return  my  formal  greeting.  In  cases 
like  this,  the  one  who  amazes  should  not  impose 
upon  the  amazed  one  the  necessity  of  asking  ques* 


202  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA 

tions,  but  should  begin  immediately  to  explain  the 
situation. 

This  I  did.  I  told  Sylvia  how  I  had  been  ac- 
cidentally brought  to  Captain  Jabe's  house,  how 
I  had  strolled  off  in  this  direction,  and  how  de- 
lighted I  was  to  meet  her  here.  In  all  this  I  was 
careful  not  to  intimate  that  I  had  suspected  her 
presence  in  this  region.  While  speaking,  I  tried 
hard  to  think  what  I  should  say  when  she  should 
remark,  "  Then  you  did  not  know  I  was  here  ?  " 
But  she  did  not  niake  this  remark.  She  looked  at 
me  with  a  little  puzzled  wrinkle  on  her  brow,  and 
said,  with  a  smile :  — 

"  It  is  absolutely  wonderful  that  you  should  be 
here,  and  I  should  not  know  it ;  and  that  I  should 
be  here,  and  you  should  not  know  it." 

Ever  since  my  meeting  with  Mother  Anastasia 
it  had  been  my  purpose,  as  soon  as  I  could  find  or 
make  an  opportunity,  to  declare  to  Sylvia  my  love 
for  her.  Apart  from  my  passionate  yearning  in 
this  direction,  I  felt  that  what  I  had  done  and  at- 
tempted to  say  when  I  had  parted  from  my  secre- 
tary made  it  obligatory  on  me,  as  a  man  of  honor, 
to  say  more,  the  moment  I  should  be  able  to  do  so. 

Now  the  opportunity  had  come ;  now  we  were 
alone  together,  and  I  was  able  to  pour  out  before 
her  the  burning  words  which  so  often,  in  my  hours 
of  reverie,  had  crowded  themselves  upon  my  mind. 
The  fates  had  favored  me  as  I  had  had  no  reason 
to  expect  to  be  favored,  but  I  took  no  advantage 
of  this  situation.  I  spoke  no  word  of  love.  I 
cannot  say  that  Sylvia's  demeanor  cooled  my  af- 


TAKING   UP   UNFINISHED  WOBK.         203 

fectiou,  but  I  can  say  that  it  cooled  my  desire  for 
instantaneous  expression  of  it.  After  her  first 
moments  of  astonishment,  her  mind  seemed  en- 
tirely occupied  with  the  practical  unraveling  of  the 
problem  of  our  meeting.  I  endeavored  to  make 
this  appear  a  very  commonplace  affair.  It  was 
quite  natural  that  my  companion  and  I  should 
come  together  to  a  region  which  he  had  before 
visited. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "I  suppose  all  out-of-the-way 
things  can  be  made  commonplace,  if  one  reasons 
long  enough.  As  for  me,  of  course  it  is  quite 
natural  that,  needing  a  change  from  the  House  of 
Martha,  I  should  come  to  my  mother's  island." 

"  Your  mother  I  "  I  stammered. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "Mrs.  Eaynor,  who 
spends  her  summers  in  that  house  over  there,  is 
my  mother.  Her  brother  is  here,  too,  and  she  has 
some  friends  with  her.  Mother  Anastasia  was 
away  recently  on  a  little  jaunt,  and  when  she  came 
back  she  said  that  I  looked  tired  and  wan,  and 
that  I  ought  to  go  to  my  mother's  for  a  fort- 
night. So  I  came.  That  was  all  simple  enough, 
you  see." 

Simple  enough!  Could  anything  be  more  ex- 
traordinary, more  enigmatical?  I  did  not  know 
what  to  say,  what  course  to  pursue ;  but  in  the 
midst  of  my  surprise  I  had  sense  enough  to  see 
that,  until  I  knew  more,  the  less  I  said  the  better. 
Sylvia  did  not  know  that  I  had  visited  her  mo- 
ther's island  and  her  mother's  house.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  she  did  not  know  that  Mother  Anastasia 


204  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

had  been  here.  I  must  decide  whether  or  not  I 
would  enlighten  her  on  these  points.  My  dispo- 
sition was  to  be  perfectly  open  and  frank  with 
her,  and  to  be  thus  I  must  enlighten  her.  But  I 
waited,  and  in  answer  to  her  statement  merely  told 
her  how  glad  I  was  that  she  had  a  vacation  and 
such  a  delightful  place  to  come  to.  She  did  not 
immediately  reply,  but  stood  looking  past  me  over 
the  little  vale  beyond  us. 

"  Well,  here  I  am,"  she  said  presently,  "  and  in 
a  very  different  dress  from  that  in  which  you  used 
to  see  me ;  but  for  all  that,  I  am  still  a  sister  of 
the  House  of  Martha,  and  so  "  — 

"  So  what  ?  "  I  interrupted. 

"  I  suppose  I  should  go  back  to  the  house,"  she 
answered. 

Now  I  began  to  warm  up  furiously. 

"  Don't  think  of  it !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Now  that 
I  have  met  you,  give  me  a  few  moments  of  your 
time.  Let  me  see  you  as  you  are,  free  and  undis- 
guised, like  other  women,  and  not  behind  bars  or 
in  charge  of  old  Sister  Sarah." 

"  Was  n't  she  horrid  ?  "  said  Sylvia. 

"  Indeed  she  was,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  now  cannot 
you  walk  a  little  with  me,  or  shall  we  sit  down 
somewhere  and  have  a  talk  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Even  if  mother  and  the 
rest  had  not  gone  away  in  the  boat,  I  could  not  do 
that,  you  know." 

If  she  persisted  in  her  determination  to  leave 
me,  she  should  know  my  love  in  two  minutes.  But 
I  tried  further  persuasion. 


TAKING   UP  UNFINISHED  WOBK.         205 

"  We  have  spent  hours  together,"  I  said ;  "  why 
not  let  me  make  you  a  little  visit  now  ?  " 

Still  she  gently  shook  her  head,  and  looked 
away.  Suddenly  she  turned  her  face  toward  me. 
Her  blue  eyes  sparkled,  her  lips  parted,  and  there 
was  a  flush  upon  her  temples. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  would  dearly  like,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  think  I  could  stay  for  that.  Will 
you  finish  the  story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  overjoyed  to  do  it !  "  I  cried,  in  a 
state  of  exultation.  "  Come,  let  us  sit  over  there 
in  the  shade,  at  the  bottom  of  this  hill,  and  I  will 
tell  you  all  the  rest  of  that  story." 

Together  we  went  down  the  little  slope. 

"You  can't  imagine,"  she  said,  "how  I  have 
longed  to  know  how  all  that  turned  out.  Over 
and  over  again  I  have  finished  the  story  for  my- 
self, but  I  never  made  a  good  ending  to  it.  It 
was  not  a  bit  like  hearing  it  from  you." 

I  found  her  a  seat  on  a  low  stone  near  the  trunk 
of  a  tree,  and  I  sat  upon  the  ground  near  by,  while 
my  soul  bounded  up  like  a  loosened  balloon. 

"  Happy  thought !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  came 
out  here  to  write  letters,  not  caring  for  fishing, 
especially  in  boats ;  how  would  you  like  me  to 
write  the  rest  of  the  story  from  your  dictation  ?  "    ^ 

Like  it !  I  could  scarcely  find  words  to  tell  her 
how  I  should  like  it. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  she,  opening  her  port- 
folio and  taking  out  some  sheets  of  paper.  "  My 
inkstand  is  in  that  case  which  you  picked  up; 
please  give  it  to  me,  and  let  us  begin.     Now  this 


206  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

is  a  very  different  affair.  I  am  finishing  the  work 
which  the  House  of  Martha  set  me  to  do,  and  I 
assure  you  that  I  have  been  very  much  dissatisfied 
because  I  have  been  obliged  to  leave  it  unfinished. 
Please  begin." 

"  I  cannot  remember  at  this  moment,'*  I  said, 
"  where  we  left  off." 

"  I  can  tell  you  exactly,"  she  answered,  "  just 
as  well  as  if  I  had  the  manuscript  before  me.  To- 
maso  held  Lucilla  by  the  hand  ;  the  cart  was  ready 
in  which  he  was  to  travel  to  the  sea-coast ;  they 
were  calling  him  to  hurry ;  and  he  was  trying  to 
look  into  her  face,  to  see  if  he  should  tell  her 
something  that  was  in  his  heart.  You  had  not 
yet  said  what  it  was  that  was  in  his  heart.  There 
was  a  chance,  you  know,  that  it  might  be  that  he 
felt  it  necessary  for  her  good  that  the  match  should 
be  broken  off." 

"How  did  you  arrange  this  in  the  endings  you 
made  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Did  you  break  off  the 
match  ?  " 

"  Don't  let  us  bother  about  my  endings,"  she 
said.     "  I  want  to  know  yours." 


xxxii; 

TOMASO  AND  LUCILLA. 

On  this  happy  morning,  sitting  in  the  shade 
with  Sylvia,  I  should  have  much  preferred  to  talk 
to  her  of  herself  and  of  myself  than  to  dictate  the 
story  of  the  Sicilian  lovers ;  but  if  I  would  keep 
her  with  me  I  must  humor  her,  at  least  for  a  time, 
and  so,  as  well  as  I  could,  I  began  my  story. 

The  situation  was,  however,  delightful :  it  was 
charming  to  sit  and  look  at  Sylvia,  her  portfolio 
in  her  lap,  pen  in  hand,  and  her  blue  eyes  turned 
toward  me,  anxiously  waiting  for  me  to  speak  ;  it 
was  so  enchanting  that  my  mind  could  with  diffi- 
culty be  kept  to  the  work  in  hand.  But  it  would 
not  do  to  keep  Sylvia  waiting.  Her  pen  began  to 
tap  impatiently  upon  the  paper,  and  I  went  on. 
We  had  written  a  page  or  two  when  she  inter- 
rupted me. 

"  It  seems  to  me,'*  she  said,  "  that  if  Tomaso 
really  starts  for  Naples  it  will  be  a  good  while  be- 
fore we  get  to  the  end  of  the  story.  So  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  you  know,  I  would  like  the  story 
just  as  long  as  you  choose  to  make  it ;  but  we 
have  n't  very  much  time,  and  it  would  be  a  dread- 
ful disappointment  to  me  if  I  should  have  to  go 
away  before  the  story  is  ended." 


208  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Why  do  you  feel  in  a  hurry  ?  "  I  asked.  "  If 
we  do  not  finish  this  morning,  cannot  I  come  to 
you  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,"  she  answered.  "It's  only 
by  the  merest  chance,  you  know,  that  I  am  writing 
for  you  this  morning,  and  I  could  n't  do  it  again. 
That  would  be  impossible.  In  fact,  I  want  to  get 
through  before  the  boat  comes  back.  Not  that  I 
should  mind  mother,  for  she  knows  that  I  used  to 
write  for  you,  and  I  could  easily  explain  how  I 
came  to  be  doing  •  it  now ;  and  I  should  not  care 
about  Uncle  or  Mr.  Heming ;  but  as  for  Miss 
Laniston,  —  that  is  the  lady  who  is  visiting  us,  — 
I  would  not  have  her  see  me  doing  this  for  any- 
thing in  the  world.  She  hates  the  House  of  Mar- 
tha, although  she  used  to  be  one  of  its  friends, 
and  I  know  that  she  would  like  to  see  me  leave 
the  sisterhood.  She  ridicules  us  whenever  she 
has  a  chance,  and  to  see  me  here  would  be  simply 
nuts  to  her." 

"  Is  she  a  bad-tempered  lady  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Do 
you  know  her  very  weU  ?  Could  you  trust  her  in 
regard  to  anything  important  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  her  well  enough,"  said  Sylvia. 
"  She  has  always  been  a  friend  of  the  family. 
She  is  wonderfully  weU  educated,  and  knows  every- 
thing, and  has  never  married,  and  travels  all  about 
by  herself,  and  is  just  as  independent  as  she  can 
be.  She  has  very  strong  opinions  about  things, 
and  does  n't  hesitate  to  tell  you  them,  no  matter 
whether  she  thinks  you  like  it  or  not.  I  have  no 
doubt  she  is  perfectly  trustworthy  and  honorable, 


TOMASO  AND  LUCILLA.  209 

and  all  that ;  but  if  you  knew  her,  I  do  not  think 
you  would  like  her,  and  you  can  easily  see  why  I 
should  n't  want  her  to  see  me  doing  this.  It 
would  give  her  a  chance  for  no  end  of  sneers  at 
the  work  of  the  sisters." 

"  Has  she  never  said  anything  about  your  acting 
as  my  amanuensis  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  Sylvia.  "  You  may  be 
sure  she  never  heard  of  that,  or  she  would  have 
made  fun  enough  of  it." 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  allow  this  dear  girl 
to  remain  longer  in  ignorance  of  the  true  state  of 
affairs. 

"  Miss  Raynor,"  I  said,  —  how  I  longed  to  say 
"  Sylvia  "  !  —  "  I  am  ashamed  that  I  have  allowed 
you  to  remain  as  long  as  this  under  a  misunder- 
standing, but  in  truth  I  did  not  understand  the 
case  myseK.  I  did  not  know  that  the  lady  of  this 
house  was  your  mother,  but  I  have  met  her,  and 
have  been  kindly  entertained  by  her.  I  did  not 
know  Miss  Laniston's  name,  but  I  have  also  met 
her,  and  talked  to  her  about  you,  and  she  knows 
you  used  to  write  for  me,  and  I  do  not  hke  her." 

Sylvia  answered  not  a  word,  but,  as  she  sat  and 
looked  at  me  with  wide-open  eyes,  I  told  her  what 
had  happened  since  my  companion  and  I  had 
landed  at  Racket  Island.  I  omitted  only  my  con- 
fidences to  Mother  Anastasia  and  Miss  Laniston. 

"Mother  Anastasia  has  been  here,"  repeated 
Sylvia,  "  and  she  never  told  me !  That  surpasses 
aU.  And  mother  never  mentioned  that  you  had 
been  here,  nor  did  any  one."     She  gazed  stead- 


210  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAETHA. 

fastly  upon  the  ground,  a  little  pale,  and  presently 
she  said,  "  I  think  I  understand  it,  but  it  need  not 
be  discussed  ;  "  and,  closing  her  portfolio,  she  rose 
to  her  feet. 

"  Sylvia,"  I  exclaimed,  springing  up  and  step- 
ping nearer  to  her,  "  it  must  be  discussed !  Ever 
since  I  parted  from  you  at  the  window  of  your 
writing-room  I  have  been  yearning  to  speak  to  you. 
I  do  not  understand  the  actions  of  your  family  and 
friends,  but  I  do  Jinow  that  those  actions  were  on 
your  account  and  on  mine.  They  knew  I  loved 
you.  I  have  not  in  the  least  concealed  the  fact 
that  I  loved  you,  and  I  hoped,  Sylvia,  that  you 
knew  it." 

She  stood,  her  closed  portfolio  in  one  hand,  her 
pen  in  the  other,  her  eyes  downcast,  and  her  face 
grave  and  quiet.  "I  cannot  say,"  she  answered 
presently,  "  that  I  knew  it,  although  sometimes  I 
thought  it  was  so,  but  other  times  I  thought  it 
was  not  so.  I  was  almost  sure  of  it  when  you  took 
leave  of  me  at  the  window,  and  tried  to  kiss  my 
hand,  and  were  just  about  to  say  something  which 
I  knew  I  ought  not  to  stay  and  hear.  It  was  when 
thinking  about  that  morning,  in  fact,  —  and  I 
thought  about  it  a  great  deal,  —  that  I  became 
convinced  I  must  act  very  promptly  and  earnestly 
in  regard  to  my  future  life,  and  be  true  to  the 
work  I  had  undertaken  to  do  ;  and  for  this  reason 
it  was  that  I  solemnly  vowed  to  devote  the  rest  of 
my  life  to  the  House  of  Martha,  to  observe  all  its 
rules  and  do  its  work." 

"  Sylvia,"  I  gasped,  "  you  cannot  keep  this  vow. 


TOMASO  AND  LUCILLA.  211 

When  you  made  it  you  did  not  know  I  loved  you. 
It  cannot  hold.     It  must  be  set  aside." 

She  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  and  then  her 
eyes  again  fell.  "  Do  not  speak  in  that  way,"  she 
said  ;  "it  is  not  right.  Of  course  I  was  not  sure 
that  you  loved  me,  but  I  suspected  it,  and  this  was 
the  very  reason  why  I  took  my  vow." 

"  It  is  plain,  then,"  I  exclaimed  bitterly,  "  that 
you  did  not  love  me ;  otherwise  you  would  never 
have  done  that ! " 

"  Don't  you  think,"  said  she,  "  that  considering 
the  sisterhood  to  which  I  belong,  we  have  already 
talked  too  much  about  that  ?  " 

If  she  had  exhibited  the  least  emotion,  I  think 
I  should  have  burst  out  into  supplications  that  she 
would  take  the  advice  of  her  Mother  Superior ; 
that  she  would  listen  to  her  friends  ;  that  she  would 
do  anything,  in  fact,  which  would  cause  her  to 
reconsider  this  step,  which  condemned  me  to  mis- 
ery and  her  to  a  life  for  which  she  was  totally  un- 
fitted, —  a  career  in  her  case  of  such  sad  misuse  of 
every  attribute  of  mind  and  body  that  it  wrung  my 
heart  to  think  of  it.  But  she  stood  so  quiet,  so 
determined,  and  with  an  air  of  such  gentle  firm- 
ness that  words  seemed  useless.  In  truth,  they 
would  not  come  to  me.     She  opened  her  portfolio. 

"  I  will  give  you  these  sheets  that  I  have  writ- 
ten," she  said  ;  "  by  right  they  belong  to  you.  I 
am  sorry  the  story  was  interrupted,  for  I  very 
much  want  to  hear  the  end  of  it,  and  now  I  never 
shaU." 

I  caught  at  a  straw.     "  Sylvia,"  I  cried,  "  let  us 


212  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

sit  down  and  finish  the  story  !  We  can  surely  do 
that.  Come,  it  is  all  ready  in  my  mind.  I  will 
dictate  rapidly." 

She  shook  her  head.     "  Hardly,"  she  answered, 
"after  what    has    been    said.      Here    are  your 


I  took  the  pages  she  handed  me,  because  she 
had  written  them. 

"  Sylvia,"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  finish  that  story, 
and  you  shall  hear  it !     This  I  vow." 

"  I  am  going  now,"  she  responded.    "  Good-by." 

"  Sylvia,"  I  cried,  quickly  stepping  after  her  as 
she  moved  away,  "  will  you  not  say  more  than 
that  ?     Will  you  not  even  give  me  your  hand  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  that,"  she  replied,  stopping,  "  if  you 
will  promise  not  to  kiss  it." 

I  took  her  hand,  and  held  it  a  few  moments 
without  a  word.     Then  she  gently  withdrew  it. 

"  Good-by  again,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  want  you 
to  forget  me ;  but  when  you  think  of  me,  always 
think  of  me  as  a  sister  of  the  House  of  Martha." 

As  I  stood  looking  after  her,  she  rapidly  walked 
toward  the  house,  and  I  groaned  while  thinking  I 
had  not  told  her  that  if  she  ever  thought  of  me 
she  must  remember  I  loved  her,  and  would  love 
her  to  the  end  of  my  life.  But  in  a  moment  I  was 
glad  that  I  had  not  said  this  ;  after  her  words  to 
me  it  would  have  been  unmanly,  and,  besides,  I 
knew  she  knew  it. 

When  I  lost  sight  of  her  in  the  grove  by  the 
house,  I  turned  and  picked  up  the  pages  of  the 
story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla,  which  I  had  dropped. 


TOMASO  AND  LUCILLA.  213 

In  doing  so  I  saw  her  inkstand,  with  its  open  case 
near  by  it,  on  the  ground  by  the  stone  on  which 
she  had  been  sitting.  I  put  the  inkstand  in  its 
case,  closed  it,  and  stood  for  some  minutes  holding 
it  and  thinking  ;  but  I  did  not  carry  it  away  with 
me  as  a  memento.  Drawing  down  a  branch  of  the 
tree,  I  hung  the  little  case  securely  by  its  handles 
to  a  twig,  where  it  would  be  in  full  view  of  any 
one  walking  that  way. 


XXXIII. 

THE  DISTANT  TOPSAIL. 

1  FOITND  Walkirk  still  fishing  near  the  place 
where  I  had  left  him. 

"  I  was  beginning  to  be  surprised  at  your  long 
absence,"  he  said,  "  and  was  thinking  of  going  to 
look  for  you.     Have  you  had  good  luck  ?  " 

This  was  a  hard  question  to  answer.  I  smiled 
grimly.  "I  have  not  been  fishing,"  I  answered. 
"  I  have  been  dictating  my  story  to  my  nun." 

The  rod  dropped  from  the  relaxed  fingers  of  my 
under-study,  and  he  stood  blankly  staring  at  me, 
and  waiting  for  an  explanation.     I  gave  it. 

Depressed  as  I  was,  I  could  not  help  feeling  in- 
terested in  the  variety  of  expressions  which  passed 
over  Walkirk's  face,  as  I  related  what  had  hap- 
pened since  I  had  seen  him.  When  I  told  him 
how  near  we  were  to  our  old  camp  on  the  Sand 
Lady's  island,  he  was  simply  amazed ;  his  astonish- 
ment, when  he  heard  of  the  appearance  of  Sylvia 
on  the  scene,  was  almost  overpowered  by  his  amuse- 
ment, as  I  related  how  she  and  I  had  continued  the 
story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla,  in  the  shade  of  the 
tree.  But  when  I  informed  him  of  Sylvia's  deter- 
mination to  devote  her  life  to  the  work  of  the 
House  of  Martha,  without  regard  to  what  I.  told 


THE  DISTANT  TOPSAIL.  215 

her  of  my  love,  he  was  greatly  moved,  and  I  am 
sure  sincerely  grieved. 

"  This  is  too  bad,  too  bad,"  he  said.  "  I  did  not 
expect  it." 

"  Miss  Raynor  is  young,"  I  answered,  "  but  the 
strength  and  integrity  of  her  soul  are  greater,  and 
her  devotion  to  what  she  believes  her  duty  is 
stronger,  than  I  supposed.  Her  character  is 
marked  by  a  simple  sincerity  and  a  noble  dignity 
which  I  have  never  seen  surpassed.  I  think  that 
she  positively  dislikes  the  life  of  the  sisterhood, 
but,  having  devoted  herself  to  it,  she  will  stand 
firmly  by  her  resolutions  and  her  promise  no  mat- 
ter what  happens.  As  regards  myself,  I  do  not 
suppose  that  her  knowledge  of  my  existence  has 
any  influence  on  her,  one  way  or  the  other.  I 
may  have  interested  and  amused  her,  but  that  is 
all.  If  I  had  finished  the  Italian  love-story  I  had 
been  telling  her,  I  think  she  would  have  been  sat- 
isfied never  to  see  me  again." 

Walkirk  shook  his  head.  "  I  do  not  believe 
that,"  he  said ;  "  her  determination  to  rivet  the 
bonds  which  hold  her  to  her  sisterhood  shows  that 
she  was  afraid  of  her  interest  in  you;  and  if  it 
gave  her  reason  to  fear,  it  gives  you  reason  to 
hope." 

"  Put  that  in  the  past  tense,  please,"  I  replied  ; 
"  whatever  it  may  have  given,  it  gives  nothing  now. 
To  hope  would  be  absurd." 

"  Mr.  Vanderley,"  exclaimed  Walkirk,  "  I 
would  not  give  up  in  that  way.  I  am  certain, 
from  what  I  know,  that  Miss  Raynor's  interest  in 


216  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

you  is  plain  not  only  to  herself,  but  to  her  family 
and  friends  ;  and  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  sort  of  inter- 
est cannot  be  extinguished  by  promises  and  resolu- 
tions. If  I  were  you,  I  would  keep  up  the  fight. 
She  is  not  yet  a  vowed  sister." 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  offering  him  my  hand^  "  you 
are  a  good  fellow,  and,  although  I  cannot  believe 
what  you  say,  I  thank  you  for  saying  it." 

It  was  now  long  past  noon,  and  we  were  both 
ready  for  the  luncheon  which  we  had  brought  with 
us.  Walkirk  opened  the  basket,  and  as  he  ar- 
ranged its  contents  on  the  broad  napkin,  which  he 
spread  upon  the  grass,  he  ruminated. 

"  I  think,"  he  remarked,  as  we  were  eating, 
"that  I  begin  to  understand  the  situation.  At 
first  I  could  not  reconcile  the  facts  with  the  Sand 
Lady's  statement  that  no  one  lived  on  her  island 
but  her  family,  but  now  I  see  that  this  creek  must 
make  an  island  of  her  domain ;  and  so  it  is  that, 
although  Captain  Jabe  is  her  neighbor,  her  state- 
ment is  entirely  correct." 

Having  finished  our  meal,  I  lighted  my  pipe  and 
sat  down  under  a  tree,  while  Walkirk,  with  his  rod, 
wandered  away  along  the  bank  of  the  stream.  Af- 
ter a  while  he  returned,  and  proposed  that  we  try 
fishing  near  the  eastern  outlet  of  the  creek,  where, 
as  the  tide  was  coming  in,  we  might  find  better 
sport, 

"  That  will  be  a  very  good  thing  for  you  to  do," 
said  I,  "  but  I  shall  not  fish.  I  am  going  to  Mrs. 
Raynor's  house." 

"  Where  ?  "  exclaimed  Walkirk. 


THE  DISTANT  TOPSAIL,  217 

"  I  am  going  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Eaynor,"  I  an- 
swered, "whom  I  have  known  only  as  the  Sand 
Lady,  but  whom  I  must  now  know  as  Sylvia's 
mother.  I  have  determined  to  act  boldly  and 
openly  in  this  matter.  I  have  made  suit  to  Mrs. 
Kaynor's  daughter.  I  have  told  other  people  of 
the  state  of  my  affections,  and  I  think  I  should 
lose  no  time,  having  now  the  opportunity,  in  con- 
ferring with  Mrs.  Raynor  herself." 

Walkirk's  face  was  troubled. 

"  You  do  not  approve  of  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Since  you  ask  me,"  he  answered,  "  I  must  say 
that  I  do  not  think  it  a  wise  thing  to  do.  If  I 
properly  understand  Miss  Raynor's  character,  her 
mother  knows  that  you  are  here  ;  and  if  she  is  will- 
ing to  have  you  visit  her,  under  the  circumstances, 
she  will  make  a  sign.  In  fact,  I  now  think  that  she 
wiU  make  some  sort  of  sign,  by  which  you  can  see 
how  the  land  lies.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Raynor  is  on 
your  side ;  but  I  am  afraid  that  if  you  should  visit 
the  house  where  Miss  Raynor  is,  it  would  set  her 
mother  against  you.  I  imagine  she  is  a  woman 
who  would  not  like  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Walkirk,"  said  I,  "your  reasoning  is  very 
good ;  but  this  is  not  a  time  to  reason,  —  it  is  a 
time  to  act ;  and  I  am  going  to  see  Mrs.  Raynor 
this  day." 

"  I  hope  it  may  aU  turn  out  well,"  he  replied, 
and  walked  away  gravely. 

I  did  not  start  immediately  for  the  Sand  Lady's 
house.  For  a  long  time  I  sat  and  thought  upon 
the  subject  of  the  approaching  interview,  planning 


218  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

and  considering  how  I  should  plead  my  case,  and 
what  I  should  answer,  and  how  I  should  overcome 
the  difficulties  which  would  probably  be  pointed 
out  to  me. 

At  last,  like  many  another  man  when  in  a  simi- 
lar  predicament,  I  concluded  to  let  circumstances 
shape  my  plan  of  action,  and  set  forth  for  Mrs. 
Raynor's  house.  The  walk  was  a  long  one,  but  I 
turned  in  order  to  pass  under  the  tree  where  I  had 
begun  to  dictate  to  Sylvia  ;  and  glad  I  was  that  I 
did  so,  for  to  the  twig  on  which  I  had  hung  the 
case  containing  her  inkstand  there  was  now  at- 
tached a  half  sheet  of  note  paper.  I  ran  to  the 
tree,  eagerly  seized  the  paper,  and  read  these  few 
words  that  were  written  on  it :  — 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  taking  such  good 
care  of  my  little  case." 

"Now,  then,"  said  I  to  myself,  proudly  gazing 
at  these  lines,  "  this  is  only  a  small  thing,  but  the 
girl  who  would  write  it,  and  who  would  expect  me 
to  read  it,  must  be  interested  in  me.  She  believes 
that  I  would  not  fail  to  come  here  again  ;  therefore 
she  believes  in  me.     That  is  a  great  point." 

For  a  moment  I  felt  tempted  to  write  something 
in  reply,  and  hang  it  on  the  tree  twig.  But  I  re- 
frained ;  what  I  would  write  to  Sylvia  must  be 
read  by  no  one  but  herself.  That  tree  was  in  a 
very  conspicuous  position,  and  my  tamest  words  to 
her  must  not  hang  upon  it.  I  carefully  folded  the 
paper  and  put  it  in  my  pocket,  and  then,  greatly 
encouraged,  walked  rapidly  to  the  house. 

On  the  front  piazza  I  found  an  elderly  woman, 


THE  DISTANT  TOPSAIL.  219 

with  a  broom.  She  knew  me,  for  she  had  fre- 
quently seen  me  during  the  time  that  I  was  en- 
camped upon  the  island.  She  was  now  greatly 
surprised  at  my  appearance  on  the  scene. 

"  Why,  sir,"  she  exclaimed,  without  waiting  for 
me  to  speak,  "  have  you  come  back  to  your  camp  ? 
It  is  too  bad." 

I  did  not  like  this  salutation.  But,  making  no 
answer  to  it,  I  asked  quickly,  "  Can  I  see  Mrs. 
Raynor  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  she ;  "  they  've  gone,  every 
one  of  them,  and  not  an  hour  ago.  What  a  pity 
they  did  not  know  you  were  here !  " 

"  Gone !  "  I  cried.     "  Where  ?  " 

"  They  've  gone  off  in  their  yacht  for  a  cruise," 
returned  the  woman.  "The  vessel  has  been  at 
Brimley  for  more  than  a  week,  being  repaired,  and 
she  got  back  this  morning;  and  as  she  was  all 
ready  to  sail,  they  just  made  up  their  minds  that 
they  'd  go  off  in  her,  for  one  of  their  little  voyages 
they  are  so  fond  of ;  and  off  they  went,  in  less  than 
two  hours." 

"  How  long  do  they  expect  to  be  gone  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  Mrs.  Raynor  told  me  they  would  be  away 
probably  for  a  week  or  two,"  the  woman  answered, 
"  and  she  would  stop  somewhere  and  telegraph  to 
me  when  she  was  coming  back.  Of  course  there 
is  n't  any  telegraph  to  this  island,  but  when  mes- 
sages come  to  Brimley  they  send  them  over  in  a 
boat." 

Having  determined   to  speak  to  Mrs.  Raynor, 


220  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

and  having  set  out  to  do  so,  this  undertaking 
appeared  to  me  the  most  important  thing  in  the 
world,  and  one  in  which  I  must  press  forward, 
without  regard  to  obstacles  of  any  kind. 

"  Are  they  going  to  any  particular  place  ?  "  I 
said.     "  Are  they  going  to  stop  anywhere  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  place  that  I  know  of,"  she 
answered,  "  and  that 's  Sanpritchit,  over  on  the 
mainland.  They  expect  to  stop  there  to  get  pro- 
visions for  the  cruise,  for  there  was  but  little  here 
that  they  could  take  with  them.  They  wanted  to 
get  there  before  dark,  and  I  don't  doubt  but  that, 
with  this  wind,  they  '11  do  it.  If  you  '11  step  to 
this  end  of  the  piazza,  sir,  perhaps  you  can  see 
their  topsail.  I  saw  it  just  before  you  came,  as 
they  were  beginning  to  make  the  long  tack." 

"  Yes,  there  it  is,"  she  continued,  when  we 
reached  the  place  referred  to,  from  which  a  vast 
stretch  of  the  bay  could  be  seen,  "  but  not  so  much 
of  it  as  I  saw  just  now." 

"  Their  topsail !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said.  "  You  can't  see  their 
mainsail,  because  they  are  so  far  away,  and  it's 
behind  the  water,  in  a  manner." 

I  stood  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  gazing  at  the   . 
little  ship.     Suddenly  a  thought  struck  me.     "  Do 
you  think  they  will  sail  on  Sunday  ?  "  I  asked.         »t 

"  No,  sir,"  she  replied ;  "  Mrs.  Raynor  never 
sails  on  Sunday.  And  that's  why  I  wondered, 
after  they  'd  gone,  why  they  'd  started  off  on  a 
Saturday.  They  will  have  to  lay  up  at  Sanpritchit 
all  dav  to-morrow ;  and  it  seems  to  me  it  would 


THE  DISTANT  TOPSAIL.  221 

have  been  a  great  deal  pleasanter  for  them  to  stay- 
here  Sunday,  and  to  have  started  on  Monday. 
There 's  no  church  at  Sanpritchit,  or  anything  for 
them  to  do,  so  far  as  I  know,  unless  Miss  Raynor 
reads  sermons  to  them,  which  she  never  did  here, 
though  she  's  a  religious  sister,  which  perhaps  you 
did  n't  know,  sir." 

"  Sanpritchit  over  Sunday,"  I  repeated  to  my- 
self. 

"  It 's  the  greatest  pity,"  said  the  woman,  "  that 
they  did  n't  know  you  and  the  other  gentleman  — 
that  is,  if  he  is  with  you  —  were  coming  back  to- 
day, for  I  am  sure  they  would  have  been  glad  to 
take  you  with  them.  There's  room  enough  on 
that  yacht,  and  will  be  more ;  for  Mr.  Heming,  the 
gentleman  that  collects  shells,  is  not  coming  back 
with  them.  They  are  to  put  him  off  somewhere, 
and  he  is  going  home.  I  have  an  idea,  though  I 
wasn't  told  so,  that  Miss  Raynor  is  not  coming 
back  with  the  rest.  She  brought  very  little  bag- 
gage with  her,  but  she  took  a  lot  of  things  on  board 
the  yacht,  and  that  looks  as  if  she  was  n't  coming 
back.  But,  bless  me,  they  went  off  in  such  a 
hurry  I  did  n't  have  time  to  ask  questions." 

I  now  turned  to  go,  but  the  woman  obliged  me 
to  inform  her  that  I  had  not  come  to  camp  on 
the  island,  and  that  I  was  staying  with  Captain 
Jabe. 

"When  they  go  off  in  this  way,"  she  said, 
"  they  take  the  maids,  and  leave  me  and  my  hus- 
band in  charge ;  and  if  you  should  fancy  to  come 
here  and  camp  again,  I  know  that  Mrs.  Eaynor 


222  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

would  wish  me  to  make  things  as  comfortable  for 
you  as  I  can,  which,  too,  I  'U  be  very  glad  to  do." 
I  thanked  her,  and  went  away.  "  This  good 
woman,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  is  the  person  who 
would  have  read  my  message  to  Sylvia,  had  I  been 
foolish  enough  to  hang  one  to  the  twig  of  the 
tree." 


XXXIV. 

THE  CENTEAL  HOTEL. 

Captain  Jabez  did  not  return  until  late  that 
Saturday  evening ;  but  as  soon  as  he  set  foot  on 
shore  I  went  to  him  and  asked  him  if  he  could,  in 
any  way,  get  us  to  Sanpritchit  that  night,  offering 
to  pay  him  liberally  for  the  service. 

"  I  've  got  a  sailboat,"  said  he,  "  and  ye  'd  be 
right  welcome  to-  it  if  it  was  here ;  but  it  ain't  here. 
I  lent  it  to  Captain  Neal,  of  Brimley,  having  no 
present  use  for  it,  and  he  won't  bring  it  back  till 
next  week  some  time.  There 's  a  dory  here,  to  be 
sure;  but  Sanpritchit 's  twenty-five  miles  away, 
and  that's  too  far  to  go  in  a  dory,  especially  at 
night.     What 's  your  hurry  ?  " 

"  I  have  very  important  business  in  Sanpritchit," 
I  answered,  "  and  if  it  is  possible  I  must  go  there 
to-night." 

"  Sanpritchit 's  a  queer  place  to  have  business 
in,"  said  Captain  Jabe  ;  "  and  it 's  a  pity  ye  did  n't 
think  of  it  this  momin',  when  ye  might  have  gone 
with  me  and  took  the  train  to  Barley,  and  there 's 
a  stage  from  there  to  Sanpritchit." 

"  Captain  Jabez,"  said  I,  "  as  there  seems  to  be 
no  other  way  for  me  to  do  this  thing,  I  will  pay 
you  whatever  you  may  think  the  service  worth,  if 


224  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

you  will  take  me  to  Sanpritchit  in  your  grocery 
boat,  and  start  immediately.  It  will  be  slow  work 
traveling,  I  know,  but  I  think  we  can  surely  get 
there  before  morning." 

The  grocer-captain  looked  at  me  for  a  moment, 
with  his  eyes  half  shut ;  then  he  set  down  on  the 
pier  a  basket  which  had  been  hanging  on  his  arm, 
and,  putting  both  hands  in  his  pockets,  stared 
steadfastly  at  me. 

"  Do*  you  know,"  he  remarked  presently,  "  that 
that  'ere  proposition  of  yours  puts  me  in  mind  of 
a  story  I  heard  of  a  California  man  and  a  New 
York  man.  The  California  man  had  come  East 
to  spend  the  winter,  and  the  New  York  man  was 
a  business  acquaintance  o'  his.  The  California 
man  called  at  the  New  York  man's  office  before 
business  hours ;  and  when  he  found  the  New  York 
man  had  n't  come  down  town  yet,  he  went  up  town 
to  see  him  at  his  house.  It  was  a  mighty  fine 
house,  and  the  New  York  man,  being  proud  of  it, 
took  the  California  man  all  over  it.  '  Look  here,' 
said  the  California  man,  '  what  will  you  take  for 
this  house,  furniture  and  all,  just  as  it  stands  ? ' 
'  I  '11  take  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dollars,' 
said  the  New  York  man.  '  Does  that  include  all 
the  odds  and  ends,'  asked  the  California  man,  — 
'  old  magazines,  umbrellas,  needles  and  pins,  empty 
bottles,  photographs,  candlesticks,  Japanese  fans, 
coal  ashes,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  that  make  a 
house  feel  like  a  home  ?  My  family 's  comin'  on 
from  California  with  nothin'  but  their  clothes,  and 
I  want  a  house  they  can  go  right  into  and  feel  at 


THE  CENTRAL  HOTEL.  225 

home,  even  to  the  cold  victuals  for  a  beggar,  if  one 
happens  to  come  along.'  '  If  I  throw  in  the  odds 
and  ends,  it  will  be  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
thousand,'  said  the  New  York  man.  '  That 's  all 
right,'  said  the  California  man,  '  and  my  family 
will  arrive,  with  their  clothes,  on  the  train  that 
gets  here  at  6.20  this  afternoon  ;  so  if  your  family 
can  get  out  of  the  house  before  that  time,  I  'm 
ready  to  pay  the  money,  cash  down.'  '  All  right,' 
said  the  New  York  man,  '  I  '11  see  that  they  do  it.' 
And  at  ten  minutes  after  six  the  New  York  family 
went  out  with  their  clothes  to  a  hotel,  and  at 
twenty  minutes  of  seven  the  California  family 
came  to  the  house  with  their  clothes,  and  found 
everything  all  ready  for  'em,  the  servants  havin' 
agreed  to  stay  at  California  wages. 

"  Now,  then,"  continued  Captain  Jabez,  "  I  don't 
want  to  hurt  nobody's  feelin's,  and  I  would  n't 
say  one  word  that  would  make  the  smallest  infant 
think  less  of  itseK  than  it  did  afore  I  spoke,  but 
it  does  strike  me  that  that  there  proposition  of 
yours  is  a  good  deal  like  the  California  man's 
offer  to  the  New  York  man." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "that  turned  out  very  well. 
Each  got  what  he  wanted." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Captain  Jabez,  "  but  this  ain't 
New  York  city.  No,  sir,  not  by  a  long  shot.  I 
am  just  as  willin'  to  accommodate  a  fellow-man,  or 
a  fellow-woman,  for  that  matter,  as  any  reasonable 
person  is ;  but  if  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  and  Queen  Victoria,  and  the  prophet  Isaiah 
was  to  come  to  me  of  a  Saturday  night,  after  I  'd 


226  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

just  got  home  from  a  week's  work,  and  ask  me  to 
start  straight  off  and  take  them  to  Sanpritchit,  I  'd 
tell  'em  that  I  'd  be  glad  to  oblige  'em,  but  it  could 
n't  be  done :  and  that  's  what  I  say  to  ye,  sir,  — 
neither  more  nor  less."  And  with  this  he  picked 
up  his  basket  and  went  into  the  house. 

I  was  not  discouraged,  however,  and  when  the 
captain  came  out  I  proposed  to  him  that  he  should 
take  me  to  Sanpritchit  the  next  day. 

"No,  sir,"  said  he.  "I  never  have  sailed  my 
grocery  boat  oil  Sunday,  and  I  don't  feel  like  be- 
ginnin'." 

I  walked  away,  but  shortly  afterward  joined  him 
on  board  his  vessel,  which  he  was  just  about  to 
leave  for  the  night. 

"  Captain,"  I  asked,  "  when  does  Sunday  end  in 
this  part  of  the  country  ?  " 

"  Well,  strictly  speaking,  it  's  supposed  to  end 
at  sunset,  or  commonly  at  six  o'clock." 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  "if  you  will  start  with  me 
for  Sanpritchit  at  six  o'clock  to-morrow  evening,  I 
will  pay  you  your  price." 

I  made  this  offer  in  the  belief  that,  with  or- 
dinary good  fortune,  we  could  reach  our  destina- 
tion before  the  Raynor  yacht  weighed  anchor  on 
Monday  morning. 

Captain  Jabez  considered  the  matter.  "I  am 
going  to  Sanpritchit  on  Monday,  any  way,"  said 
he ;  "  and  if  you  're  in  such  a  hurry  to  be  there 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  I  'd  just  as  lieve 
sail  to-morrow  evening  at  six  o'clock  as  not." 

It  was  not  much  after  the  hour  at  which  some 


THE  CENTRAL  HOTEL.  227 

people  in  that  part  of  the  country,  when  they  have 
a  reason  for  it,  still  believe  that  Sunday  comes  to 
an  end,  that  the  grocery  boat  left  her  pier  with 
Captain  Jabez,  Abner,  Walkirk,  and  me  on  board. 
There  was  nothing  at  all  exhilarating  in  this  ex- 
pedition. I  wanted  to  go  rapidly,  and  I  knew  we 
should  go  slowly.  I  had  passed  a  dull  day,  wait- 
ing for  the  time  to  start,  and,  to  avoid  thinking  of 
the  slow  progress  we  should  make,  1  soon  turned 
in. 

I  woke  very  early,  and  went  on  deck.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  can  remember  a  more  disagreeable 
morning.  It  was  day,  but  the  sun  was  not  up ;  it 
was  not  cloudy,  but  there  was  a  filmy  uncertainty 
about  the  sky  that  was  more  unpleasant  than  the 
clouds.  The  air  was  cold,  raw,  and  oppressive. 
There  was  no  one  on  deck  but  Abner,  and  he  was 
at  the  wheel,  which,  on  account  of  the  grocery 
store  occupying  so  large  a  portion  of  the  after  part 
of  the  vessel,  was  placed  well  forward.  Only  a 
jib  and  mainsail  were  set,  and  as  I  came  on  deck 
these  were  fluttering  and  sagging,  as  Abner  care- 
fully brought  the  vessel  round.  Now  I  saw  that 
we  were  floating  slowly  toward  the  end  of  a  long 
pier,  and  that  we  were  going  to  land. 

As  I  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  I  did 
not  wonder  that  Captain  Jabez  thought  San- 
pritchit  was  not  much  of  a  place  to  do  business  in. 
There  were  few  houses,  perhaps  a  dozen,  scattered 
here  and  there  along  a  low  shore,  which  rose,  at 
one  end  of  the  place,  into  a  little  bluff,  behind 
which  I  saw  a  mast  or  two.     On  the  pier  was  a 


228  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAETHA. 

solitary  man,  and  he  was  the  only  living  being  in 
sight.  It  was  that  dreary  time  before  breakfast, 
when  everything  that  seems  cheerless  is  more  cheer- 
less, everything  that  is  sad  more  sad,  everything 
that  is  discouraging  more  discouraging,  and  which 
right-minded  persons  who  are  able  to  do  so  spend 
in  bed. 

Gradually  the  vessel  approached  the  pier,  and 
Abner,  to  whom  I  had  not  yet  spoken,  for  I  did 
not  feel  in  the  least  like  talking,  left  the  wheel, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  was  near  enough,  threw  a  small 
line  to  the  man  on  the  pier,  who  caught  it,  pulling 
ashore  a  cable  with  a  loop  in  the  end,  threw  the 
latter  over  a  post,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  gro- 
cery boat  was  moored.  The  man  came  on  board, 
and  he  and  Abner  went  below. 

It  was  too  early  to  go  on  shore,  for  nothing 
could  be  done  at  that  bleak,  unearthly  hour ;  but 
I  was  in  that  state  of  nervous  disquietude  when 
any  change  is  a  relief,  and  I  stepped  ashore.  I 
was  glad  to  put  my  feet  upon  the  pier.  Now  I 
felt  that  I  was  my  own  master.  It  was  too  soon 
to  go  on  board  the  yacht,  but  I  could  regulate  my 
movements  as  I  pleased,  and  was  very  willing  to 
be  alone  during  the  hour  or  two  in  which  I  must 
remain  inactive. 

I  walked  over  the  loose  and  warped  planks  of 
the  pier,  the  dull  water  rippling  and  flopping 
about  the  timbers  beneath  me,  inhaling  that  faint 
smell  of  the  quiet  water  and  soaked  logs,  which  is 
always  a  little  dispiriting  to  me  even  at  less  dis- 
piriting hours.     The  crowing  of  one  or  two  cocks 


THE  CENTRAL  HOTEL.  229 

made  me  understand  how  dreadfully  still  every- 
thing was.  The  stillness  of  the  very  early  morning 
is  quite  different  from  that  of  the  night.  During 
the  latter  people  are  asleep,  and  may  be  presumed 
to  be  happy.  In  the  former  they  are  about  to 
wake  up  and  be  miserable.  That,  at  least,  was  my 
notion,  as  I  walked  into  the  little  village. 

Not  a  creature  did  I  see ;  not  a  sound  did  I 
hear  except  my  own  footsteps.  Presently  I  saw  a 
cat  run  around  the  corner  of  a  house,  and  this  was 
a  relief.  I  walked  on  past  a  wide  space,  in  which 
there  were  no  houses,  when  I  came  to  a  small,  ir- 
regularly built  white  house,  in  front  of  which  hung 
a  sign  bearing  the  inscription  "  Central  Hotel." 
If  anything  could  have  made  me  more  disgusted 
with  the  world  than  I  then  was,  it  was  this  sign. 
If  the  name  of  this  miserable  little  country  tavern 
had  been  anything  suitable  to  itseK  and  the  place, 
if  it  had  been  called  The  Plough  and  Harrow,  The 
Gray  Horse,  or  even  The  Blue  Devil,  I  think  I 
should  have  been  glad  to  see  it.  A  village  inn 
might  have  been  a  point  of  interest  to  me,  but  Cen- 
tral Hotel  in  this  mournful  settlement  of  small 
farmers  and  fishermen,  —  it  was  ridiculous ! 

However,  the  door  of  the  house  was  open,  and 
inside  was  a  man  sweeping  the  sanded  floor. 
When  he  saw  me,  he  stopped  his  work  and  stared 
at  me. 

"  Good-mornin',"  he  said.  "  Don't  often  see 
strangers  here  so  airly.  Did  ye  come  on  the  gro- 
cery boat  ?  I  saw  her  puttin'  in.  Do  ye  want  a 
room  ?     Time  for  a  good  nap  before  breakfast." 


230  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

I  answered  that  I  did  not  want  a  room,  but  the 
remark  about  breakfast  made  me  feel  that  I  should 
like  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  perhaps  I  might  get  it 
here.  It  might  have  been  a  more  natural  thing  to 
go  back  to  the  boat  and  ask  Abner  to  make  me 
the  coffee,  but  I  did  not  want  to  go  back  to  the 
boat.  I  did  not  want  to  wake  Walkirk.  I  did 
not  want  to  have  him  with  me  on  shore.  I  did 
not  want  to  have  him  talk  to  me.  My  present 
intention  was  to  go  to  the  yacht  as  soon  as  it  was 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  its  passengers  were 
awake,  to  see  Mrs.  Raynor,  and  say  to  her  what  I 
had  to  say.  I  did  not  feel  in  the  proper  spirit  for 
this ;  but,  in  the  spirit  in  which  I  found  myself, 
the  less  I  was  trammeled  by  advice,  by  suggestions 
of  prudence,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  the  better 
it  would  be  for  me.  So  I  was  very  glad  that  my 
under-study  was  asleep  on  the  grocery  boat,  and 
hoped  that  he  would  remain  in  that  condition  until 
I  had  had  my  talk  with  Sylvia's  mother. 

I  put  my  request  to  the  man  and  he  smiled. 
"  Ye  can't  get  no  coffee,"  he  said,  "  until  break- 
fast time,  and  that's  pretty  nigh  two  hours  off. 
There  is  people  in  the  place  that  have  breakfast 
earlier  than  we  do,  but  we  keep  boarders,  ye  know. 
We  've  only  got  Captain  Fluke  now,  but  generally 
have  more  ;  and  ye  could  n't  ask  a  man  like  Cap- 
tain Fluke  to  git  up  to  his  breakfast  before  half 
past  seven.  Then  ye  don't  want  yer  baggage  sent 
fur  ?  Perhaps  ye  've  come  ter  see  friends,  an'  it 's 
a  little  airly  ter  drop  in  on  'em  ?  Come  in,  any 
way,  and  take  a  seat." 


THE  CENTRAL  HOTEL.  231 

I  accepted  the  invitation.  Sitting  indoors  might 
possibly  be  less  dreary  than  walking  out-of-doors. 

"  Now  I  tell  ye  what  ye  ought  to  do,"  continued 
the  man.  "  Ye  ought  to  take  a  nip  of  whiskey 
with  some  bitters  in  it.  It 's  always  kinder  damp 
airly  in  the  mornin',  and  ye  must  feel  it  more, 
bein'  in  a  strange  place.  I  've  always  thought  a 
strange  place  was  damper,  airly  in  the  mornin', 
than  a  place  ye  're  used  ter  ;  and  there  's  nothin' 
like  whiskey  with  a  little  bitters  to  get  out  damp- 
ness." 

I  declined  to  partake  of  any  Central  Hotel 
whiskey,  adding  that  the  one  refreshment  I  now 
needed  was  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"  But  there  's  no  fire  in  the  kitchen,"  said  he, 
"  and  there  won't  be  for  ever  so  long.  That 's 
how  whiskey  comes  in  so  handy ;  don't  have  to 
have  no  fire.  Ye  jes'  pour  it  out  and  drink  it,  and 
there 's  the  end  of  it." 

"  Not  always,"  I  remarked. 

"  Ye  're  right  there,"  said  he,  with  a  smile.  "  A 
good  deal  depends  on  how  much  ye  pour."  He 
turned  away,  but  stopped  suddenly.  "  Look  here," 
said  he  ;  "  if  ye  say  so,  I  '11  make  ye  a  cup  of  cof- 
fee. I've  got  an  alcohol  lamp  up  there  that  I 
can  boil  water  with  in  no  time.  I  'm  out  of  alco- 
hol, but,  if  you  '11  pay  for  it,  I  '11  fill  the  lamp 
with  whiskey  ;  that  '11  burn  just  as  well." 

I  willingly  agreed  to  his  proposition,  and  the 
man  immediately  disappeared  into  the  back  part 
of  the  house. 

I  sat  and  looked  about  the  little  bar-room,  in 


232  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

which  there  was  absolutely  nothing  of  the  quaint 
interest  which  one  associates  with  a  country  inn. 
It  was  a  bare,  cold,  hard,  sandy,  dirty  room ;  its 
air  tainted  with  the  stale  odors  of  whiskey,  sugar, 
and  wood  still  wet  from  its  morning  mopping.  In 
less  than  fifteen  minutes  the  man  placed  before 
me  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  soda  biscuit.  The 
coffee  was  not  very  good,  but  it  was  hot,  and  when 
I  had  finished  it  I  felt  like  another  man. 

"  There  now,"  cried  the  bar-keeper,  looking  at 
me  with  great  satisfaction,  "  don't  that  take  the 
dampness  out  of  ye  ?  I  tell  ye  there 's  no  such 
stiffener  in  the  airly  mornin'  as  whiskey ;  and  if 
ye  don't  use  it  in  one  way,  ye  can  in  another." 

Truly  the  world  seemed  warmer  and  more  cheer- 
ful ;  the  sun  was  brighter.  Perhaps  now  it  was 
not  too  early  to  go  on  board  the  yacht.  At  any 
rate,  I  would  go  near  where  she  lay,  and  judge 
for  myself.  I  made  inquiries  of  the  innkeeper  in 
regard  to  Mrs.  Raynor's  yacht. 

"  Yacht !  "  he  said.     "  There  's  no  yacht  here." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken !  "  I  cried.  "  A  yacht 
belonging  to  Mrs.  Raynor  sailed  for  Sanpritchit 
on  Saturday,  and  it  was  not  to  leave  here  until 
this  morning." 

"  Sanpritchit !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  This  is  not 
Sanpritchit." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked  in  amazement. 
"That  boat  was  bound  direct  for  Sanpritchit." 

"  Captain  Jabe's  boat  ?  "  said  the  man.  ."  Yes, 
and  so  she  is.  She  sails  fur  Sanpritchit  every 
Monday  mornin',  and  generally  stops  here  when 


THE  CENTRAL  HOTEL.  233 

she 's  got  any  freight  ter  leave  fur  the  store, 
though  I  never  knowed  her  ter  come  so  airly  in  the 
mornin'." 

"  My  conscience !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  must  get 
on  board  of  her." 

"  Aboard  of  her  !  "  said  he.  "  She  's  been  gone 
more  'n  haK  an  hour.  She  don't  often  stop  here 
more  'n  ten  minutes,  if  she  's  got  the  tide  with  her, 
which  she  had  this  mornin',  strong." 


XXXV. 

MONEY  MAKES  THE  MARE  GO. 

I  RUSHED  out  of  the  Central  Hotel,  and  looked 
over  the  water,  but  I  could  see  nothing  of  the  gro- 
cery boat :  she  had  disappeared  beyond  the  bluff, 
behind  which  I  had  stupidly  taken  it  for  granted 
Mrs.  Raynor's  yacht  was  lying. 

"  Oh,  she 's  clean  gone,"  said  the  bar-keeper,  who 
had  joined  me,  "  an'  she  's  not  likely  to  come  back 
ag'in'  wind  an'  tide.  They  must  have  thought 
you  was  asleep  in  your  berth." 

This  was  undoubtedly  the  truth,  for  there  was 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  any  one  on  the  boat 
knew  I  had  gone  on  shore. 

"  Where  can  I  get  a  boat  to  follow  them  ? "  I 
cried, 

"  Can't  say  exactly,"  said  the  man.  "  We  've 
got  a  big  catboat,  but  she 's  on  the  stocks  gettin' 
a  new  stern  post  put  in.  You  can  see  her  mast 
stickin'  up  over  the  bluff,  there.  I  don't  think 
there's  any  other  sailboat  in  the  place  jes'  now, 
and  Captain  Fluke  's  havin'  his  fresh  painted.  I 
told  him  it  was  a  bad  time  o'  the  year  to  do  it  in ; 
but  he 's  Captain  Fluke,  and  that 's  all  there  's  to 
say  about  it.  There 's  rowboats ;  but  Sanpritchit  's 
eight  miles  from  here,  and  it 's  a  putty  long  pull 


MONEY  MAKES  THE  MABE  GO.  235 

there  and  back,  and  I  don't  know  anybody  here 
who  'd  care  to  take  it.  If  ye  want  to  go  to  San- 
pritchit,  ye  ought  to  go  in  a  wagon.  That 's  lots 
the  easiest  way." 

"  Where  can  I  get  a  horse  and  vehicle  ? "  I 
asked  quickly,  so  much  enraged  with  myself  that 
I  was  glad  to  have  some  one  to  direct  my  move- 
ments. 

"  That 's  more  'n  I  know,  jes'  this  minute,"  said 
the  man  ;  "  but  if  ye  '11  step  inside  and  sit  down, 
I  '11  go  and  ask  'em  at  the  store  what  they  can  do 
fur  ye.  If  it  ain't  open  yet,  I  'U  know  where  ter 
find  'em.  If  anybody  comes  along  for  a  mornin' 
drink,  jes'  tell  'em  to  wait  a  minute,  and  I  '11  be 
back." 

In  about  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  the  bar- 
keeper returned,  and  announced  that  I  could  not 
hire  the  horse  at  the  store,  for  one  of  his  hind 
shoes  was  off,  and  they  wanted  to  use  him  any 
way.  He  had  asked  two  or  three  other  people, 
also,  for  the  village  was  waking  up  by  this  time, 
but  none  of  them  could  let  me  have  a  horse. 

"  But  I  '11  tell  ye  what  ye  can  do,"  said  the  man, 
"if  ye  choose  to  wait  here  a  little  while.  The 
boss  of  this  house  went  over  to  Stipbitts  last  night 
to  see  his  mother,  and  I  expect  him  back  putty 
soon,  and  I  guess  he  '11  let  ye  have  his  hoss.  Ye 
see  the  people  about  here  ain't  used  to  hiring 
bosses,  and  we  is.  People  as  keeps  hotels  is  ex- 
pected to  do  it." 

There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  wait  for 
the  return  of  the  landlord  of  Central  Hotel ;  and 


236  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAETHA. 

for  very  nearly  an  hour  I  walked  up  and  down  the 
main  street  of  that  wretched  little  hamlet,  the 
name  of  which  I  neither  heard  nor  asked,  cursing 
my  own  stupidity  and  the  incapacity  of  the  water- 
side rustic. 

When  the  "  boss  "  arrived  he  was  willing  to  let 
me  have  his  mare  and  his  buckboard,  and  a  boy  to 
drive  me ;  but  the  animal  must  be  fed  first,  and 
of  course  I  would  not  start  off  without  my  break- 
fast. As  I  had  to  wait,  and  the  morning  meal  was 
almost  ready,  I  partook  of  it ;  but  the  mare  gave 
a  great  deal  more  time  to  her  breakfast  than  I 
gave  to  mine.  I  hurried  the  preparations  as  much 
as  I  could,  and  shortly  after  eight  o'clock  we 
started.  My  little  expedition  had  the  features  of 
a  useless  piece  of  trouble,  but  I  had  carefully  con- 
sidered the  affair,  and  concluded  that  I  had  a  good 
chance  of  success.  Almost  any  horse  could  take 
me  eight  miles  in  an  hour  and  a  half,  even  with 
poor  roads,  and,  from  what  I  knew  of  the  indus- 
trial methods  of  this  part  of  the  country,  I  did  not 
believe  that  the  necessary  supplies  would  be  put 
on  the  yacht  before  half  past  nine :  therefore,  I 
did  not  allow  myself  to  doubt  that  I  should  reach 
Sanpritchit  in  time  to  see  Mrs.  Kaynor. 

The  mare  was  a  very  deliberate  traveler,  and 
the  boy  who  sat  beside  me  was  an  easily  satisfied 
driver. 

"  We  must  go  faster  than  this,"  said  I,  after  we 
had  reached  what  appeared  to  be  a  highroad,  "  or 
I  shall  not  get  to  Sanpritchit  in  time  to  attend  to 
my  business  there." 


MONEY  MAKES  THE  MABE  GO.  237 

*'  Ye  can't  drive  a  hoss  too  fast  when  ye  first  set 
out,"  answered  the  boy.  "  Ye  '11  hurt  a  hoss  if  ye 
do  that.  After  a  little  while  she  '11  warm  up,  and 
then  she  '11  go  better.  Oh,  she  can  go  if  she  's  a 
mind  ter.  She's  a  rattler  when  she  really  gets 
goin'." 

"  I  don't  want  her  to  rattle,"  said  I ;  "  but  what 
is  her  ordinary  rate  of  travel,  —  how  many  miles 
an  hour,  do  you  suppose  ?  " 

"  Don't  know  as  I  ever  counted,"  the  boy  said. 
"  Some  miles  she  goes  faster,  and  some  miles  she 
goes  slower.  A  good  deal  depends  on  whether  it 's 
uphill  or  downhill." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  taking  out  my  watch,  "  we  must 
keep  her  up  to  six  miles  an  hour,  at  least,  and 
then  we  shall  do  the  eight  miles  by  half  past  nine, 
with  something  to  spare." 

"  Eight  miles  !  "  repeated  the  boy.  "  Eight 
miles  to  where  ?  " 

"  Sanpritchit,"  replied  I.  "  That 's  what  they 
told  me." 

"  Oh,  that 's  by  water,"  said  the  driver ;  "  but 
this  road  's  got  to  go  around  the  end  of  the  bay, 
and  after  that  'way  round  the  top  of  the  big  marsh, 
and  that  makes  it  a  good  seventeen  miles  to  San- 
pritchit. Half  past  nine !  Why,  the  boss  told 
me,  if  I  did  n't  get  there  before  twelve,  I  must 
stop  somewhere  and  water  the  mare  and  give  her 
some  oats.     I  've  got  a  bag  of  them  back  there." 

I  sat  dumb.  Of  course,  with  this  conveyance, 
and  seventeen  miles  between  me  and  Sanpritchit,  it 
was  absurd  to  suppose  that  I  could  get  there  be- 


238  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

fore  the  yacht  sailed.  It  was  ridiculous  to  go  an 
inch  farther  on  such  a  tedious  and  useless  journey. 

"  Boy,"  I  asked,  "  where  is  the  nearest  railroad 
station  ?  " 

"  Stipbitts,"  said  he. 

"How  far?" 

"Five  miles." 

"  Take  me  there,"  I  said. 

The  boy  looked  at  me  in  surprise.  "  I  can't  do 
that.  I  was  told  to  take  you  to  Sanpritchit :  that 's 
where  I  'm  goin',  and  I  'm  goin'  to  bring  back  a 
box  belongin'  to  Captain  Fluke.  That's  what 
I  'm  goin'  to  do." 

"  I  cannot  get  there  in  time,"  I  said.  "  I  did  n't 
know  it  was  so  far.  Take  me  to  Stipbitts,  and  I 
will  give  you  a  dollar  ;  then  you  can  go  along  and 
attend  to  Captain  Fluke's  box.  I  have  already 
paid  for  the  drive  to  Sanpritchit." 

"  Have  you  got  as  much  as  a  dollar  and  a  half 
about  you  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

I  replied  that  I  had. 

"  All  right,"  said  he ;  "  give  me  that,  and  I  '11 
take  you  to  Stipbitts." 

The  bargain  was  struck,  I  was  taken  to  Stip- 
bitts, and  an  hour  afterward  I  was  on  my  way  to 
my  home  at  Arden. 

There  was  one  very  satisfactory  feature  about 
this  course  of  action :  it  was  plain  and  simple, 
and  needed  no  planning.  To  attempt  to  follow 
the  yacht  would  be  useless.  To  wait  anywhere 
for  Walkirk  would  be  equally  so.  He  would  be 
more  apt  to  find  me  at  my  home  than  anywhere 


MONEY  MAKES  THE  MARE  GO.  239 

else.  It  was  his  business  to  find  me,  and  there 
was  no  doubt  that  he  would  do  it.  I  did  not  like 
to  defer  my  intended  interview  with  Mrs.  Kaynor, 
but  it  could  not  be  helped.  And  as  for  Sylvia,  if 
she  had  resolved  to  return  to  the  House  of  Martha, 
the  best  place  for  me  was  the  neighborhood  of 
that  institution. 


XXXVI. 

IN  THE   SHADE   OF   THE   OAK. 

I  FOUND  my  home  at  Arden  very  empty  and 
dreary.  The  servants  did  not  expect  me,  my 
grandmother  had  not  returned,  and  the  absence  of 
Walkirk  added  much  to  my  dissatisfaction  with 
the  premises. 

I  was  never  a  man  who  could  sit  down  and  wait 
for  things  to  happen,  and  I  felt  now  that  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  do  something, 
that  I  should  talk  to  somebody ;  and  accordingly, 
on  the  morning  after  my  arrival,  I  determined  to 
walk  over  to  the  House  of  Martha  and  talk  to 
Mother  Anastasia.  For  a  man  to  consult  with  the 
Mother  Superior  of  a  religious  institution  about 
his  love  affairs  was  certainly  an  uncommon  pro- 
ceeding, with  very  prominent  features  of  inappro- 
priateness ;  but  this  did  not  deter  me,  for,  apart 
from  the  fact  that  there  was  no  one  else  to  talk 
to,  I  considered  that  Mother  Anastasia  owed  me 
some  advice  and  explanation,  and  without  hesita- 
tion I  went  to  ask  for  it. 

When  I  reached  the  House  of  Martha,  and  made 
known  my  desire  to  speak  to  the  head  of  the  in- 
stitution, I  was  ushered  into  a  room  which  was 
barer  and  harder  than  I  had  supposed,  from  Wal- 


IN  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  OAK.  241 

kirk's  description  of  it.  It  did  not  even  contain 
the  religious  pictures  or  the  crucifixes  which  would 
have  relieved  the  blankness  of  the  walls  in  a  Ro- 
man Catholic  establishment  of  the  kind. 

As  I  stood  gazing  about  me,  with  a  feeling  of 
indignation  that  such  a  place  as  this  should  ever 
have  been  the  home  of  such  a  woman  as  Sylvia,  a 
door  opened,  and  Mother  Anastasia  entered. 

Her  appearance  shocked  me.  I  had  in  my  mind 
the  figure  of  a  woman  with  whom  I  had  talked, 
—  a  woman  glowing  with  the  warmth  of  a  rich 
beauty,  draped  in  graceful  folds  of  white,  with  a 
broad  hat  shadowing  her  face,  and  a  bunch  of 
wild  flowers  in  her  belt.  Here  was  a  tall  woman 
clothed  in  solemn  gray,  her  face  pale,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  ground;  but  it  was  Mother  Ana- 
stasia ;  it  was  the  woman  who  had  talked  to  me  of 
Sylvia,  who  had  promised  to  help  me  with  Sylvia. 

Still  gazing  on  the  floor,  with  her  hands  folded 
before  her,  she  asked  me  what  I  wished.  At  first 
I  could  not  answer  her.  It  seemed  impossible  to 
open  my  heart  to  a  woman  such  as  this  one.  But 
if  I  said  anything,  I  must  say  it  without  hesitation, 
and  so  I  began. 

"  Of  course,"  I  said,  "  I  have  come  to  see  you 
about  Sylvia  Raynor.  I  am  in  much  trouble  re- 
garding her.  You  promised  to  aid  me,  and  I  have 
come  to  ask  for  the  fulfillment  of  that  promise. 
My  love  for  that  girl  grows  stronger  day  by  day, 
hour  by  hour,  and  I  have  been  thwarted,  mystified, 
and  I  may  say  deceived.     I  have  come  "  — 

"  She  of  whom  you  speak,"  interrupted  Mother 


242  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

Anastasia,  "is  not  to  be  discussed  in  that  way. 
She  has  declared  her  intention  to  unite  herself  per- 
manently with  our  sisterhood,  and  to  devote  her 
life  to  our  work.  She  can  have  nothing  more  to  do 
with  you,  nor  you  with  her." 

"  That  will  not  do  at  all,"  I  said  excitedly. 
"  When  I  last  saw  you,  you  did  not  talk  like  that, 
and  the  opinions  you  expressed  at  that  time  are 
just  as  good  now  as  they  were  then.  I  want  to  go 
over  this  matter  with  you.  There  are  things  that 
I  have  a  right  to' know." 

A  little  frown  appeared  upon  her  brow.  "  This 
conversation  must  cease,"  she  said  ;  "  the  subjects 
you  wish  to  discuss  are  forbidden  to  our  sisterhood. 
You  must  mention  them  no  more." 

I  tried  hard  to  restrain  myself  and  speak  quietly. 
*  Madam  "  —  said  I. 

"  You  must  not  call  me  '  madam,'  "  she  broke  in. 
"*'  T  am  the  Mother  Superior  of  this  house." 

"  I  understand  that,"  I  continued,  "  and  I  under- 
stand your  feeling  of  duty.  But  you  have  other 
duties  besides  those  you  owe  to  your  sisterhood. 
You  made  me  a  promise,  which  I  accepted  with  an 
honest  and  confiding  heart.  If  you  cannot  do  what 
you  promised,  you  owe  it  to  me  to  explain  why 
you  cannot  do  it.  I  do  not  know  what  has  hap- 
pened to  change  your  views  and  her  views,  and,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  the  whole  world.  You  can 
set  me  right;  you  can  explain  everything  to  me." 

The  frown  disappeared,  and  her  face  seemed 
paler.  "  It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  discuss  any- 
thing of  the  sort  in  this  house.     I  must  insist "  — 


IN  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  OAK.  243 

I  did  not  permit  her  to  finish  her  sentence. 
"Very  well,  then,"  I  exclaimed,  "if  you  cannot 
talk  to  me  here,  talk  to  me  somewhere  else.  When 
you  desire  it,  you  go  outside  of  these  walls,  and 
you  speak  freely  and  fully.  You  have  so  spoken 
with  me ;  and  because  you  have  done  so,  it  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  you  do  it  again.  Your  own 
heart,  your  conscience,  must  tell  you  that  after 
what  you  have  said  to  me,  and  after  what  I  have 
said  to  you,  it  is  unjust,  to  say  no  more,  to  leave 
me  in  this  state  of  cruel  mystification  ;  not  to  tell 
me  why  you  have  set  aside  your  promise  to  me,  or 
even  to  tell  me,  when  we  talked  together  of  Sylvia, 
that  we  were  then  at  the  home  of  Sylvia's  mother." 

For  the  first  time  she  looked  at  me,  straight  in 
my  eyes,  as  a  true  woman  would  naturally  look  at 
a  man  who  was  speaking  strongly  to  her.  I  think 
I  made  her  forget,  for  a  few  moments  at  least,  that 
she  was  a  Mother  Superior.  Then  her  eyes  fell 
again,  and  she  stood  silent. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said  presently,  and  speaking 
slowly,  "I  ought  to  explain  these  things  to  you. 
It  is  a  great  mistake,  as  I  now  see,  that  I  ever  said 
anything  to  you  on  the  subject ;  but  things  were 
different  then,  and  I  did  not  know  that  I  was  do- 
ing wrong.  Still,  if  you  rely  on  me  to  set  you 
right,  you  shall  be  set  right.  I  see  that  this  is 
quite  as  necessary  from  other  points  of  view  as 
from  your  own.  I  cannot  speak  with  you  to-day, 
but  to-morrow,  about  this  time,  I  shall  be  on  the 
road  to  Maple  Ridge,  where  I  am  going  to  visit  a 
sick  woman." 


244  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  I  shall  join  you  on  the  road,"  I  answered,  and 
took  my  leave. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  I  thought  of  little  but 
the  promised  interview  on  the  morrow.  To  this  I 
looked  forward  with  the  greatest  interest,  but  also 
with  the  greatest  anxiety.  I  feared  that  Mother 
Anastasia  would  prove  to  me  that  I  must  give  up 
all  thoughts  of  Sylvia.  In  fact,  if  Sylvia  had  re- 
solved to  devote  herself  to  the  service  of  the  House 
of  Martha,  —  and  she  had  told  me  herself  that  she 
had  so  resolved,  < —  I  was  quite  sure  she  would  do 
so.  Then  what  was  there  for  Mother  Anastasia  to 
say,  or  me  to  do  ?  The  case  was  settled.  Sylvia 
Raynor  must  be  nothing  to  me. 

I  greatly  wished  for  Walkirk.  I  knew  he  would 
encourage  me,  in  spite  of  the  obvious  blackness  of 
the  situation.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  encour- 
age myself.  But,  however  black  my  fate  might 
be,  I  longed  to  know  why  it  had  been  made  black 
and  all  about  it,  and  so  waited  with  a  savage  impa- 
tience for  the  morning  and  Mother  Anastasia. 

Immediately  after  breakfast,  the  next  day,  I  was 
on  the  Maple  Ridge  road,  strolling  from  our  vil- 
lage toward  the  top  of  a  hill  a  mile  or  more  away, 
whence  I  could  see  the  rest  of  the  road,  as  it  wound 
through  the  lonely  country,  and  at  last  lost  itself 
in  the  woods.  Back  again  to  Arden  I  came,  and 
had  covered  the  distance  between  the  village  and 
the  hilltop  five  times,  when,  turning  and  coming 
down  the  hill,  I  saw,  far  away,  the  figure  of  a 
woman  walking. 

I  knew  it  was  Mother  Anastasia,  but  I  did  not 


72V  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  OAK.  245 

hasten  to  meet  her.  In  fact,  I  thought  the  further 
she  was  from  the  village,  when  our  interview  took 
place,  the  more  likely  she  would  be  to  make  it  long 
enough  to  be  satisfactory.  I  came  slowly  down 
the  hill,  and,  reaching  a  place  where  a  great  oak- 
tree  shaded  the  road,  I  waited. 

She  came  on  quickly,  her  gray  dress  appearing 
heavier  and  more  sombre  against  the  sun-lighted 
grass  and  foliage  than  it  had  appeared  in  the 
dreary  room  of  the  House  of  Martha.  As  she  ap- 
proached the  tree  I  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"  You  made  me  come  too  far,"  she  said  reproach- 
fully, as  soon  as  we  were  near  each  other.  "  The 
lane  which  leads  to  the  house  I  came  to  visit  is  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  behind  me." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  I  replied,  "  that  I  have  made  you 
walk  any  farther  than  necessary  on  such  a  warm 
morning,  but  I  did  not  know  that  you  intended  to 
turn  from  this  road.  Let  us  step  into  the  shade 
of  this  tree ;  we  can  talk  more  comfortably  there." 

She  looked  at  the  tree,  but  did  not  move. 
"  What  I  have  to  say,"  she  remarked,  "  can  be 
said  here ;  it  will  not  take  long." 

"  You  must  not  stand  in  the  sun,"  I  replied ; 
"  you  are  already  heated.  Come  into  the  shade," 
and,  without  waiting  her  answer,  I  walked  toward 
the  tree ;  she  followed  me. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  I,  "  here  is  a  great  stone  con- 
veniently placed,  upon  which  we  can  sit  and  rest 
while  we  talk." 

She  fixed  her  large  eyes  upon  me  with  a  certain 
surprise.     "  Truly,  you  have  no  regard  for  conven- 


246  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

tionalities.  It  is  sufficiently  out  of  the  way  for  a 
sister  of  the  House  of  Martha  to  meet  a  gentleman 
in  this  manner,  but  to  sit  with  him  under  a  tree 
would  be  ridiculously  absurd,  to  say  the  least  of 
it." 

"  It  does  not  strike  me  in  that  light,"  I  saido 
"You  are  tired  and  warm,  and  must  sit  down. 
You  came  here  on  my  account,  and  I  regard  you, 
in  a  manner,  as  a  guest." 

She  smiled,  and  looked  at  the  rock  which  I  had 
pointed  out.  It*  was  a  flat  one,  about  three  feet 
long,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  had  been  put  there  on 
purpose  to  serve  for  a  seat. 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  said,  and  sat  down  upon  it. 
As  she  did  so,  she  gave  a  look  about  her,  and  at 
the  same  time  made  a  movement  with  her  right 
hand,  which  I  often  before  had  noticed  in  women. 
It  was  the  involuntary  expression  of  the  female 
soul,  longing  for  a  fan.  A  fan,  however,  made  up 
no  part  of  the  paraphernalia  of  a  sister  of  the 
House  of  Martha. 

"  Allow  me,"  I  said,  and,  taking  off  my  straw 
hat,  I  gently  fanned  her. 

Mother  Anastasia  laughed.  "  This  is  really  too 
much  ;  please  stop  it.  But  you  may  lend  me  your 
hat.  I  did  not  know  the  morning  would  be  so 
warm,  and  I  am  afraid  I  walked  too  fast.  But  we 
are  losing  time.  Will  you  tell  me  precisely  what 
it  is  you  wish  to  know  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  can  soon  do  that,"  I  answered ;  "  but  I  must 
first  say  that  I  believe  you  will  suffocate  if  you  try 
to  talk  from  under  that  cavernous  bonnet.     Why 


IN  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  OAK.  247 

don't  you  take  it  off,  and  get  the  good  of  this  cool 
shade  ?  You  had  discarded  all  that  sort  of  thing 
when  I  last  talked  with  you,-  and  you  were  then 
just  as  much  a  Mother  Superior  as  you  are  now." 

She  smiled.  "  The  case  was  very  different  theno 
I  was  actually  obliged,  by  the  will  of  another,  to 
discard  the  garb  of  our  sisterhood." 

"  I  most  earnestly  wish,"  said  I,  "  that  you 
could  be  obliged  to  do  partially  the  same  thing 
now.  With  that  bonnet  on,  you  do  not  seem  at 
all  the  same  person  with  whom  I  talked  on  Tan- 
gent Island.  You  appear  like  some  one  to  whom 
I  must  open  the  whole  subject  anew." 

"  Oh,  don't  do  that,"  she  said,  with  a  deprecat- 
ing movement  of  her  hand,  —  "I  really  have  n't 
the  time  to  listen  ;  and  if  my  bonnet  hinders  your 
speech,  off  it  shall  come.  Now,  then,  I  suppose 
you  want  to  know  the  reason  of  my  change  of  posi- 
tion in  regard  to  Sylvia  and  you."  As  she  said 
this  she  took  off  her  bonnet ;  not  with  a  jerk,  as 
Sylvia  had  once  removed  hers,  but  carefully,  with- 
out disturbing  the  dark  hair  which  was  disposed 
plainly  about  her  head.  I  was  greatly  relieved ; 
this  was  an  entirely  different  woman  to  talk  to. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "that  is  what  I  want  to 
know." 

"  I  will  briefly  give  you  my  reasons,"  she  said, 
still  fanning  herself  with  my  hat,  while  I  stood  be- 
fore her,  earnestly  listening,  "  and  you  will  find 
them  very  good  and  conclusive  reasons.  When  I 
spoke  to  you  before,  the  case  was  this:  Sylvia 
Raynor  had  had  a  trouble,  which  made  her  think 


248  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

she  was  the  most  miserable  girl  in  the  whole 
world,  and  she  threw  herself  into  our  sisterhood. 
Her  mother  did  not  object  to  this,  because  of 
course  Sylvia  entered  as  a  probationer,  and  she 
thought  a  few  months  of  the  House  of  Martha  life 
would  do  her  good.  That  her  daughter  would 
permanently  join  the  sisterhood  never  occurred  tc 
her.  As  I  was  a  relative,  it  was  a  natural  thing 
that  the  girl  should  enter  a  house  of  which  I  was 
the  head.  I  did  not  approve  of  the  step,  but  at 
first  I  had  no  festrs  about  it.  After  a  while,  how- 
ever, I  began  to  have  fears.  She  never  liked  our 
life  and  never  sympathized  with  it,  and  her  heart 
was  never  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  the  sisterhood  ; 
but  after  a  time  I  found  she  was  endeavoring  to 
conquer  herself,  and  when  a  woman  with  a  will  — 
and  Sylvia  is  one  of  these  —  undertakes  in  earnest 
to  conquer  herself,  she  generally  succeeds.  Then 
it  was  I  began  to  have  my  fears,  and  then  it  was  I 
wished  to  divert  her  mind  from  the  life  of  the  sis- 
terhood, and  send  her  back  to  the  world  to  which 
she  belongs." 

"  Then  it  was  you  gave  me  your  promise  ?  "  I 
added. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  :  "  and  I  gave  it  honestly. 
I  would  have  helped  you  all  I  could.  I  truly  be 
lieved  that  in  so  doing  I  was  acting  for  Sylvia's 
good." 

"  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart," 
I  said  ;  "  and  tell  me,  did  Mrs.  Raynor  know, 
when  I  was  on  the  island,  of  my  affection  for 
Sylvia?" 


IN  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  OAK.  249 

"  She  knew  as  mucli  as  I  knew,"  was  the  an- 
swer, "  for  I  went  to  the  island  on  purpose  to  con- 
sult with  her  on  the  subject ;  and  when  you  con- 
fided in  me,  and  I  gave  you  my  promise  to  help 
you,  I  also  told  her  about  that." 

"  And  did  she  approve  ?  "  I  asked  anxiously. 

"  She  did  not  disapprove.  She  knew  all  about 
you  and  your  family,  although  she  had  never  seen 
you  until  you  were  at  her  island." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  I,  "  that  I  should  have 
happened  to  go  to  that  place  at  that  time." 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  it  does  seem  rather  odd. 
But,  as  I  was  going  to  say,  a  letter  came  not  more 
than  an  hour  after  we  had  had  our  conversation, 
which  totally  altered  the  face  of  affairs.  Sylvia 
wrote  that  she  had  resolved  to  devote  her  life  to 
the  sisterhood.  This  was  a  great  blow  to  her 
mother  and  to  me,  but  Mrs.  Eaynor  had  firmly 
resolved  not  to  interfere  with  her  daughter's  reso- 
lutions in  regard  to  her  future  life.  She  had  done 
so  once,  and  the  results  had  been  very  unfor- 
tunate. I  was  of  an  entirely  different  mind,  and 
I  resolved,  if  the  thing  could  be  done,  to  change 
Sylvia's  purpose  ;  but  I  failed,  and  that  is  the  end 
of  it.  She  is  not  to  be  moved.  I  know  her  well, 
and  her  conviction  and  determination  are  not  to 
be  changed.  She  is  now  on  a  visit  to  her  mother, 
and  when  she  returns  she  will  enter  the  House  of 
Martha  as  an  inmate  for  life." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  after  a  little  pause,  "  I  know 
that.  I  saw  her  a  few  days  ago,  and  she  told  me 
of  her  purpose." 


250  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"What!"  cried  Mother  Anastasia,  "  you  have 
seen  her !  A  few  days  ago !  She  told  you  all  this  ! 
Why  did  you  not  say  so  ?  Why  did  you  come  to  me  ?  " 

"  Do  not  be  displeased,"  I  said,  and  as  I  spoke 
I  seated  myself  beside  her  on  the  stone.  She 
made  no  objections.  I  think  she  was  too  much 
agitated  even  to  notice  it.  "  I  had  no  intention  of 
keeping  anything  from  you,  but  I  first  wanted  to 
hear  what  you  had  to  tell  me.  Sylvia  did  not  tell 
me  everything,  nor  have  you." 

"  Met  her,  and  talked  with  her ! "  ejaculated 
Mother  Anastasia.  "  Will  you  tell  me  how  this 
happened  ?  " 

She  listened  with  the  greatest  attention  to  my 
story. 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  she  said,  when  I  had  finished. 
"  It  seems  like  a  tantalizing  fate.  But  it  is  well 
you  did  not  overtake  Mrs.  Raynor.  It  would  have 
been  of  no  good  to  you,  and  the  interview  would 
have  greatly  troubled  her." 

"  Now  tell  me,"  I  asked,  "  what  I  most  want  to 
know:  what  was  the  reason  of  Sylvia's  sudden 
determination  ?  " 

Mother  Anastasia  fixed  her  dark  eyes  on  mine ; 
they  were  full  of  a  tender  sadness.  "  I  thought 
of  you  nearly  all  last  night,"  she  said,  "  and  I  de° 
termined  that  if  you  should  ask  me  that  question 
to-day  I  would  answer  it.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to 
do,  but  it  is  the  best  thing.  Sylvia's  resolve  was 
caused  by  her  conviction  that  she  loved  you.  Feel- 
ing assured  of  that,  she  unhesitatingly  took  the 
path  which  her  conscience  pointed  out  to  her." 


IN  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  OAK.  251 

"  Conscience  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mother  Anastasia,  "  it  was  her  con- 
science. She  was  far  more  in  earnest  than  we  had 
thought  her.  It  was  conviction,  not  desire  or 
sympathy,  which  had  prompted  her  to  enter  the 
sisterhood.  Now  her  convictions,  her  conscience, 
prompt  her  to  crush  everything  which  would  in- 
terfere with  the  life  she  has  chosen.  All  this  she 
has  told  me.  Her  conscience  stands  between  you 
and  her,  and  you  must  understand  that  what  you 
wish  is  absolutely  impossible.  You  must  be  strong, 
and  give  up  all  thought  of  her.  Will  you  promise 
me  to  do  this  ?  "  and  as  she  spoke  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  my  arm.  "  Promise  it,  and  I  shall  feel 
that  I  have  devoted  myself  this  morning  to  as  true 
a  mission  of  charity  as  anything  to  which  our  sis- 
ters vow  themselves." 

I  did  not  respond,  but  sat  silent,  with  bowed 
head. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  said  Mother  Anastasia.  "  Ee- 
flect  on  what  I  have  said,  and  your  heart  and 
your  practical  sense  will  tell  you  that  what  I  ask 
you  to  do  is  what  you  ought  to  do  and  must  do. 
Good-by,"  and  she  held  out  her  hand  to  me. 

I  took  her  hand  and  held  it.  The  thought 
flashed  into  my  mind  that  when  I  released  that 
hand  the  last  tie  between  Sylvia  and  myself  would 
be  broken. 

Presently  the  hand  was  adroitly  withdrawn, 
Mother  Anastasia  rose,  and  I  was  left  alone,  sit- 
ting in  the  shadow  of  the  tree. 


xxxvn. 

THE  PERFORMANCE  OF  MY  UNDEE-8TUDY. 

On  the  next  day,  when  Walkirk  came  back,  I 
received  him  coolly.  To  be  sure,  the  time  of  his 
return  was  now  of  slight  importance,  but  my  man- 
ner showed  him  that  on  general  principles  I  blamed 
his  delay. 

I  did  not  care  to  hear  his  explanations,  but  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  state  the  misfortunes  which  had 
befallen  me.  I  told  him  in  detail  all  that  had 
happened  since  I  left  the  floating  grocery.  I  did 
not  feel  that  it  was  at  all  necessary  to  do  this,  but 
there  was  a  certain  pleasure  in  talking  of  my  mis- 
haps and  sorrows ;  I  was  so  dreadfully  tired  of 
thinking  of  them. 

As  I  told  Walkirk  of  my  interview  with  Mother 
Anastasia  on  the  Maple  Ridge  road,  he  laughed 
aloud.  He  instantly  checked  himself  and  begged 
my  pardon,  but  assured  me  that  never  had  he 
heard  of  a  man  doing  anything  so  entirely  out  of 
the  common  as  to  make  an  appointment  with  a 
Mother  Superior  to  meet  him  under  a  tree.  At 
first  I  resented  his  laugh,  but  I  could  not  help  see- 
ing for  myself  that  the  situation,  as  he  presented 
it,  was  certainly  an  odd  one,  and  that  a  man  with 
his  mind  free  to  ordinary  emotions  might  be  ex- 
cused for  being  amused  at  it. 


PERFORMANCE  OF  MY  UNDERSTUDY.  253 

When  I  had  finished,  and  had  related  how 
Mother  Anastasia  had  proved  to  me  that  all  pos- 
sible connection  between  myself  and  Sylvia  Ray- 
nor  was  now  at  an  end,  Walkirk  was  not  nearly 
so  much  depressed  as  I  thought  he  ought  to  be. 
In  fact,  he  endeavored  to  cheer  me,  and  did  not 
agree  with  Mother  Anastasia  that  there  was  no 
hope.     At  this  I  lost  patience. 

"  Confound  it !  "  I  cried,  "  what  you  say  is  not 
only  preposterous,  but  unfeeling.  I  hate  this 
eternal  making  the  best  of  things,  when  there  is 
no  best.  With  me  everything  is  at  its  worst, 
and  it  is  cruel  to  try  to  make  it  appear  other- 
wise." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  annoy  you,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
must  insist  that  to  me  the  situation  does  not  ap- 
pear to  be  without  some  encouraging  features. 
Let  me  tell  you  what  has  happened  to  me  since 
we  parted." 

I  resumed  the  seat  from  which  I  had  risen  to 
stride  up  and  down  the  room,  and  Walkirk  began 
his  narrative. 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  I  ever  have 
been  so  surprised  as  when  I  went  on  deck  of  the 
grocery  boat,  a  short  time  before  breakfast,  and 
found  that  you  were  not  on  board.  Captain  Jabe 
and  his  man  were  equally  astonished,  and  I  should 
have  feared  that  you  had  fallen  overboard,  if  a 
man,  who  had  come  on  the  boat  at  a  little  pier 
where  we  had  stopped  very  early  in  the  morning, 
had  not  assured  us  that  he  had  seen  you  go  ashore 
at  that  place,  but  had  not  thought  it  worth  while 


254  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

to  mention  so  commonplace  an  occurrence.  I 
wished  to  put  back  to  the  pier,  but  it  was  then  far 
behind  us,  and  Captain  Jabe  positively  refused  to 
do  so.  Both  wind  and  tide  would  be  against  us, 
he  said ;  and  if  you  chose  to  go  ashore  without 
saying  anything  to  anybody,  that  was  your  affair, 
and  not  his.  I  thought  it  possible  you  might  have 
become  tired  with  the  slow  progress  of  his  vessel, 
and  had  left  it,  to  hire  a  horse,  to  get  to  Sanprit- 
chit  before  we  did. 

"  When  we  reached  Sanpritchit  and  you  were 
not  there,  I  was  utterly  unable  to  understand  the 
situation  ;  but  Mrs.  Kaynor's  yacht  was  there,  just 
on  the  point  of  sailing,  and  I  considered  it  my 
duty,  as  your  representative,  to  hasten  on  board, 
and  to  apprise  the  lady  that  you  were  on  your  way 
to  see  her.  Of  course  she  wanted  to  know  why 
you  were  coming,  and  all  that ;  and  as  you  were 
not  there  to  do  it  yourself,  I  told  her  the  nature 
of  your  errand,  and  impressed  upon  her  the  im- 
portance of  delaying  her  departure  until  she  had 
seen  you  and  had  heard  what  you  had  to  say.  She 
did  not  agree  with  me  that  the  interview  would  be 
of  importance  to  any  one  concerned,  but  she  con- 
sented to  wait  for  a  time  and  see  you.  If  you  ar- 
rived, she  agreed  to  meet  you  on  shore ;  for  she 
would  not  consent  to  your  coming  on  board  the 
yacht,  where  her  daughter  was.  I  went  ashore, 
and  waited  there  with  great  impatience  until  early 
in  the  afternoon,  when  a  boy  arrived,  who  said  he 
had  started  to  bring  you  to  Sanpritchit,  but  that 
you  had  changed  your  mind,  and  he  had  conveyed 


PEBFOBMANCE  OF  MY  UNDEBSTUDY.  255 

you  to  a  railroad  station,  where  you  had  taken  a 
western-bound  train. 

"  I  went  to  the  yacht  to  report.  I  think  Mrs. 
Kaynor  was  relieved  at  your  non-arrival ;  and  as 
she  knew  I  wished  to  join  you  as  soon  as  possible, 
she  invited  me  to  sail  with  them  to  a  little  town 
on  the  coast,  —  I  forget  its  name,  —  from  which  I 
could  reach  the  railroad  much  quicker  than  from 
Sanpritchit." 

"She  did  not  object,  then,"  said  I,  "to  your 
being  on  the  yacht  with  her  daughter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  answered,  "  for  she  found  that 
Miss  Raynor  did  not  know  me,  or  at  least  recog- 
nize me,  and  had  no  idea  that  I  was  in  any  way 
connected  with  you.  Of  course  I  accepted  Mrs. 
Raynor's  offer ;  but  I  did  not  save  any  time  by  it, 
for  the  wind  fell  off  toward  evening,  and  for  hours 
there  was  no  wind  at  all,  and  it  was  late  the  next 
afternoon  when  we  reached  the  point  where  I  went 
ashore." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  of  Miss  Raynor  in  all 
that  time  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  she  was  on  deck  a  great 
deal,  and  I  had  several  conversations  with  her." 

"  With  her  alone  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.  "  Mrs.  Raynor  is  a  great  reader 
and  fond  of  naps,  and  I  think  that  the  young  lady 
was  rather  tired  of  the  companionship  of  her  uncle 
and  the  other  gentleman,  who  were  very  much 
given  to  smoking,  and  was  glad  of  the  novelty  of 
a  new  acquaintance.  On  my  part,  I  felt  it  my 
duty  to  talk  to  her  as  much  as  possible,  that  I 


256  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

might  faithfully  report  to  you  all  that  she  said, 
and  thus  give  you  an  idea  of  the  state  of  her 
mind." 

"  Humph !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  but  what  did  she 
say?" 

"  Of  course,"  continued  Walkirk,  "  a  great  deal 
of  our  conversation  was  desultory  and  of  no  im- 
portance, but  I  endeavored,  as  circumspectly  as  I 
could,  so  to  turn  the  conversation  that  she  might 
say  something  which  it  would  be  worth  while  to 
report  to  you."    * 

"  Now,  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  if  I  had  known  you 
were  doing  a  thing  of  that  sort,  I  should  not  have 
approved  of  it.  But  did  she  say  anything  that  in 
any  way  referred  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  did,"  he  answered,  "  and  this  is  the 
way  it  came  about.  Something  —  1  think  it  was 
the  heat  of  the  windless  day  —  caused  her  to  refer 
to  the  oppressive  costume  of  the  sisters  of  the 
House  of  Martha,  and  she  then  remarked  that  she 
supposed  I  knew  she  was  one  of  that  sisterhood. 
I  replied  that  I  had  been  so  informed,  and  then 
betrayed  as  much  natural  interest  in  regard  to  the 
vocations  and  purposes  of  the  organization  as  I 
thought  would  be  prudent.  I  should  have  liked 
to  bring  up  every  possible  argument  against  the 
folly  of  a  young  lady  of  her  position  and  prospects 
extinguishing  the  very  light  of  her  existence  in 
that  hard,  cold,  soul-chilling  house  which  I  knew 
so  well,  but  the  circumstances  did  not  warrant 
that.  I  was  obliged  to  content  myself  with  very 
simple  questions. 


PEBFORMANCE  OF  MY  UNDERSTUDY.  257 

" '  How  do  the  sisters  employ  themselves  ?'  I  in- 
quired. 

"  '  In  all  sorts  of  ways,'  she  said.  '  Some  nurse 
or  teach,  and  others  work  for  wages,  like  ordinary 
people,  except  that  they  do  not  have  anything  to 
do  with  the  money  they  earn,  which  is  paid  di- 
rectly to  the  house.' 

" '  I  think,'  I  then  remarked,  '  that  there  are  a 
good  many  employments  which  would  give  the  sis- 
ters very  pleasant  occupation,  such  as  decorative 
art  or  clerical  work.' 

"  At  this  her  face  brightened.  '  Clerical  work 
is  very  nice.     I  tried  that  once,  myself.' 

"  '  Was  it  book-keeping  ? '  I  asked. 

" '  Oh,  no,'  she  answered  ;  '  I  should  n't  have 
liked  that.  It  was  writing  from  dictation.  I 
worked  regularly  so  many  hours  every  morning. 
It  was  a  book  which  was  dictated  to  me,  — 
sketches  of  travel ;  that  is,  it  was  partly  travel 
and  partly  fiction.     It  was  very  interesting.' 

" '  I  should  think  it  would  be  so,'  I  answered. 
'  To  ladies  of  education  and  literary  taste,  I  should 
say  such  employment  would  be  highly  congenial. 
Do  you  intend  to  devote  yourself  principally  to 
that  sort  of  thing  ?  ' 

" '  Oh,  no,'  said  she,  '  not  at  all.  I  like  the 
work  very  much,  but,  for  various  reasons,  I  shall 
not  do  any  more  of  it.' 

"  I  endeavored  mildly  to  remonstrate  against 
such  a  decision,  but  she  shook  her  head.  '  I  was 
not  a  fuU  sister  at  the  time,'  she  said,  '  and  this 
was  an  experiment.     I  shall  do  no  more  of  it.' 


258  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Her  manner  was  very  decided,  but  I  did  not 
drop  the  subject.  'If  you  do  not  fancy  writing 
from  dictation/  I  said,  '  why  don't  you  try  type- 
writing ?  I  should  think  that  would  be  very  in- 
teresting, and  it  could  be  done  in  your  own  room. 
The  work  would  not  require  you  to  go  out  at  all, 
if  you  object  to  that.'  Now  this  was  a  slip,  be- 
cause she  had  not  told  me  that  she  had  gone  out, 
but  she  did  not  notice  it. 

"  *  A  sister  does  not  have  a  room  of  her  own,' 
she  answered,  '  and  I  do  not  understand  typewrit- 
ing ; '  and  with  that  she  left  me,  and  went  below, 
looking  very  meditative. 

"  But  my  remark  had  had  an  effect.  I  think  it 
was  not  half  an  hour  afterward  when  she  came  to 
me. 

"  '  I  have  been  thinking  about  your  suggestion 
of  typewriting,'  she  said.  '  Is  it  difficult  to  learn  ? 
Do  you  understand  it  ?  What  use  could  I  make 
of  a  machine  in  the  House  of  Martha  ? ' 

"  I  told  her  that  I  understood  the  art,  and  gave 
her  all  the  information  I  could  in  regard  to  it, 
taking  care  to  make  the  vocation  as  attractive  as 
my  conscience  would  allow.  As  to  the  use  she 
could  make  of  it,  I  said  that  at  present  there  was 
a  constant  demand  for  typewritten  copies  of  all 
sorts  of  writings,  —  legal,  literary,  scientific,  every- 
thing. 

"  '  And  people  would  send  me  things,'  she  asked, 
*  and  I  would  copy  them  on  the  typewriter,  and 
send  them  back,  and  that  would  be  all  ? ' 

"  '  You  have  put  it  exactly,'  I  said.     '  If  you  do 


PEBFORMANCE  OF  MY  UNDERSTUDY.  259 

not  choose,  you  need  have  no  communication  what- 
ever with  persons  ordering  the  work.' 

"  '  And  do  you  know  of  any  one  who  would  want 
such  work  done  ?  ' 

"  *  Yes,'  I  said  ;  '  I  know  people  who  would  be 
very  glad  to  send  papers  to  be  copied.  I  could 
procure  you  some  work  which  would  be  in  no 
hurry,  and  that  would  be  an  advantage  to  you  in 
the  beginning.' 

" '  Indeed  it  would,'  she  said ;  and  then  her 
mother  joined  us,  and  the  subject  of  typewriting 
was  dropped.  The  only  time  that  it  was  referred 
to  again  was  at  the  very  end  of  my  trip,  when 
Miss  Kaynor  came  to  me,  just  as  I  was  preparing 
to  leave  the  yacht,  and  told  me  that  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  get  a  typewriter  and  to  learn  to 
use  it ;  and  she  asked  me,  if  I  were  still  wiUing  to 
assist  her  in  securing  work,  to  send  my  address  to 
the  Mother  Superior  of  the  House  of  Martha, 
which  of  course  I  assured  her  I  would  do." 

"  Why  in  the  name  of  common  sense,"  I  cried, 
turning  suddenly  around  in  my  chair  and  facing 
Walkirk,  "  did  you  put  into  Miss  Kaynor's  head 
all  that  stuff  about  typewriting  ?  Did  you  do  it 
simply  because  you  liked  to  talk  to  her  ?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  he  replied.  "  I  did  it  solely 
on  your  account  and  for  your  benefit.  If  she 
learns  to  copy  manuscripts  on  the  typewriter,  why 
should  she  not  copy  your  manuscripts  ?  Not  im- 
mediately, perhaps,  but  in  the  natural  course  of 
business.  If  she  should  make  me  her  agent,  which 
I  have  no  doubt  she  would  be  willing  to  do,  I  could 


260  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

easily  manage  all  that.  In  tliis  way  you  could 
establish  regular  communications  with  her.  There 
would  be  no  end  to  your  opportunities,  and  I  am 
sure  you  would  know  how  to  use  them  with  such 
discretion  and  tact  that  they  would  be  very  effec- 
tive." 

I  folded  my  arms,  and  looked  at  him.  "  Wal- 
kirk,"  said  I,  *'  you  are  positively,  completely,  and 
hopelessly  off  the  track.  Mother  Anastasia  has 
shown  me  exactly  how  I  stand  with  Sylvia  Kaynor. 
She  has  vowed  'herself  to  that  sisterhood  because 
she  thinks  it  is  wrong  to  love  me.  She  has  made 
her  decision,  and  has  taken  all  the  wretched  steps 
which  have  rendered  that  decision  final,  and  now 
I  do  not  intend  to  try  to  make  her  do  what  she 
religiously  believes  is  wrong." 

"  That  is  not  my  idea,"  answered  Walkirk. 
"What  I  wish  is  that  she  shall  get  herself  into 
such  a  state  of  mind  that  she  shall  think  the  sis- 
terhood is  wrong,  and  therefore  leave  it." 

I  gave  a  snort  of  despair  and  disgust,  and  be- 
gan to  stride  up  and  down  the  room.  Presently, 
however,  I  recovered  my  temper.  "  Walkirk," 
said  I,  "  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  mean  well,  and 
I  don't  intend  to  find  fault  with  you  ;  but  this  sort 
of  thing  does  not  suit  me ;  let  us  have  no  more  of 
it." 


XXXVIII. 

A  BKOKEN  TRACE. 

As  soon  as  my  grandmother  heard  that  I  was 
at  Arden,  she  terminated  her  visit  abruptly,  and 
returned  home.  When  she  saw  me,  she  expressed 
the  opinion  that  my  holiday  had  not  been  of  any 
service  to  me.  She  did  not  remember  ever  seeing 
me  so  greatly  out  of  condition,  and  was  of  the 
opinion  that  I  ought  to  see  the  doctor. 

"  These  watering  places  and  islands,"  she  said, 
"  are  just  as  likely  to  be  loaded  down  with  malaria 
as  any  other  place.  In  fact,  I  don't  know  but  it 
is  just  as  well  for  our  health  for  us  to  stay  at  home. 
That  is,  if  we  live  in  a  place  like  Arden." 

I  had  no  desire  to  conceal  from  this  nearest  and 
dearest  friend  and  relative  the  real  cause  of  my 
appearance,  and  I  laid  before  her  all  the  facts  con- 
cerning Sylvia  and  myself. 

She  was  not  affected  as  I  supposed  she  would 
be.  In  fact,  my  narrative  appeared  to  relieve  her 
mind  of  some  of  her  anxieties. 

"  Any  way,"  she  remarked,  after  a  moment  or 
two  of  consideration,  "  this  is  better  than  malaria. 
If  you  get  anything  of  that  kind  into  your  system, 
it  is  probable  that  you  will  never  get  it  out,  and 
it  is  at  any  time  likely  to  affect  your  health,  one 


262  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

way  or  another ;  but  love  affairs  are  different. 
They  have  a  powerful  influence  upon  a  person,  as 
I  well  know,  but  there  is  not  about  them  that  in- 
sidious poison,  which,  although  you  may  think  you 
have  entirely  expelled  it  from  your  system,  is  so 
likely  to  crop  out  again,  especially  in  the  spring 
and  fall." 

To  this  I  made  no  answer  but  a  sigh.  What 
was  the  good  of  saying  that,  in  my  present  state 
of  mind,  health  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
me? 

"  I  am  not  altogether  surprised,"  continued  my 
grandmother,  "  that  that  secretary  business  turned 
out  in  this  way.  If  it  had  been  any  other  young 
woman,  I  should  have  advised  against  it,  but  Syl- 
via Raynor  is  a  good  match,  —  good  in  every  way ; 
and  I  thought  that  if  her  working  with  you  had 
made  you  like  her,  and  had  made  her  like  you,  it 
might  be  very  well ;  but  I  am  sure  it  never  entered 
my  mind  that  if  you  did  come  to  like  each  other 
she  would  choose  the  sisterhood  instead  of  you. 
I  knew  that  she  was  not  then  a  full  sister,  and  I 
had  n't  the  slightest  doubt  that  if  you  two  really 
did  fall  in  love  with  each  other  she  would  leave 
the  House  of  Martha  as  soon  as  her  time  was  up. 
You  must  not  think,  my  dear  boy,"  she  continued, 
"  that  I  am  anxious  to  get  rid  of  you,  but  you  know 
you  must  marry  some  day." 

I  solemnly  shook  ray  head.  "  All  that,"  I  said, 
^  is  at  an  end.     We  need  speak  no  more  of  it." 

My  grandmother  arose,  and  gently  placed  her 
hand  upon  my  shoulder.     "  Come !   come !     Do 


A  BROKEN  TRACE.  263 

not  be  so  dreadfully  cast  down.  You  have  yet 
one  strong  ground  of  hope." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  I  inquired. 

My  grandmother  looked  into  my  face  and 
smiled.     "  The  girl  is  n't  dead  yet,"  she  answered. 

I  now  found  myself  in  a  very  unsettled  and  un- 
pleasant state  of  mind.  My  business  affairs,  which 
had  been  a  good  deal  neglected  of  late,  I  put  into 
the  charge  of  Walkirk,  who  attended  to  them  with 
much  interest  and  ability.  My  individual  con- 
cerns —  that  is  to  say,  the  guidance  and  direction 
of  myself  —  I  took  into  my  own  hands,  and  a  sorry 
business  I  made  of  it. 

I  spent  a  great  deal  of  my  time  wondering 
whether  or  not  Sylvia  had  returned  to  the  House 
of  Martha.  I  longed  for  her  coming.  The  very 
thought  of  her  living  within  a  mile  of  me  was  a 
wild  and  uneasy  pleasure.  Then  I  would  ask  my- 
self why  I  wished  her  to  come.  Her  presence  in 
the  neighborhood  would  be  of  no  good  to  me  unless 
I  saw  her,  and  of  course  I  could  not  see  her.  And 
if  this  could  be  so,  what  would  be  worse  for  me,  or 
for  her,  than  our  seeing  each  other  ?  From  these 
abstract  questions  I  came  to  a  more  practical  one  ; 
What  should  I  do  ?  To  go  away  seemed  to  be  a 
sensible  thing,  but  I  was  tired  of  going  away.  I 
liked  my  home,  and,  besides,  Sylvia  would  be  in 
the  neighborhood.  It  also  seemed  wise  to  stay, 
and  endeavor  to  forget  her.  But  how  could  I  for- 
get her,  if  she  were  in  the  neighborhood  ?  If  she 
were  to  go  away,  I  might  be  willing  to  go  away 
also ;  but  the  chances  were  that  I  should  not  know 


264  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

where  she  had  gone,  and  how  could  I  endure  to  go 
to  any  place  where  I  was  certain  she  was  not  ? 

During  this  mental  tangle  I  confided  in  no  one. 
There  was  no  one  who  could  sympathize  with  my 
varying  view  of  the  subject,  and  I  knew  there  was 
no  one  with  whose  view  of  the  subject  I  could 
agree.  Sometimes  it  was  almost  impossible  for 
me  to  sympathize  with  myself. 

It  suited  my  mood  to  take  long  walks  in  the  sur- 
rounding country.  One  morning,  returning  from 
one  of  these,  when  about  half  a  mile  out  of  the  vil- 
lage, I  saw  in  the  road,  not  very  far  from  me,  a 
carriage,  which  seemed  to  be  in  distress.  It  was 
a  four-wheeled,  curtained  vehicle,  of  the  kind  to 
be  had  for  hire  at  the  railroad  stations  ;  and  beside 
the  raw-boned  horse  which  drew  it  stood  a  man 
and  a  woman,  the  latter  in  the  gray  garb  of  a  sister 
of  the  House  of  Martha. 

When  I  recognized  this  costume,  my  heart  gave 
a  jump,  and  I  hastened  toward  the  group ;  but  the 
woman  had  perceived  my  approach,  and  to  my  sur- 
prise came  toward  me.  I  quickly  saw  that  it  was 
Mother  Anastasia.  My  heart  sank ;  without  any 
good  reason,  it  must  be  admitted,  but  still  it  sank. 

The  face  of  the  Mother  Superior  was  slightly 
flushed,  as  she  walked  rapidly  in  my  directiouo 
Saluting  her,  I  inquired  what  had  happened. 

"  Nothing  of  importance,"  she  answered ;  "  a 
trace  has  broken." 

"  I  will  go  and  look  at  it,"  I  said.  "  Sometimes 
that  sort  of  mishap  can  be  easily  remedied." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said   she,  "  don't   trouble   yourself. 


A  BBOKEN  TBACE.  265 

It 's  broken  in  the  middle,  and  so  you  cannot  cut 
a  fresh  hole  in  it,  or  do  any  of  those  things  which 
men  do  to  broken  traces.  I  have  told  the  boy  that 
he  must  take  out  the  horse,  and  ride  it  back  to  the 
stable  and  get  another  set  of  harness.  That  is  the 
only  thing  to  be  done.  I  shall  wait  here  for  his 
return,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  have  met  you." 

Naturally  I  was  pleased  at  this.  "  Then  you 
have  something  to  say  to  me  ?  "  I  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  have  a  good  deal  to 
say.     Let  us  walk  on  to  a  more  shaded  place." 

"  Now  it  strikes  me,"  said  I,  "  that  the  most 
pleasant  place  to  wait  will  be  in  the  carriage ;  there 
we  can  sit  and  talk  quite  comfortably." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  half  laugh, 
"  it  is  stuffy  and  horrid.  I  greatly  prefer  the  fresh 
air.  I  have  reason  to  suppose  you  do  not  object 
to  conversing  under  a  tree.  I  see  a  promising  bit 
of  shade  a  little  farther  on." 

"  Would  it  be  wise  to  go  so  far  from  the  car- 
riage? "  I  asked.  "  Have  you  left  in  it  anything 
of  value  ?  " 

Mother  Anastasia  was  more  animated  than  I 
had  ever  seen  her  before  when  in  the  uniform  of 
the  house. 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  "  she  answ^ered.  "  You  know  the 
people  around  here  do  not  steal  things  out  of  car- 
riages.    Let  us  step  on." 

"  But  first,"  I  said,  "  I  will  run  down  and  pull 
the  carriage  out  of  the  way  of  passing  vehicles.  It 
now  stands  almost  across  the  road." 

With  a  movement  of   impatience,  she  put  her 


266  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

hand  upon  my  arm.  "  Don't  trouble  yourself 
about  that  hack ;  let  it  stand  where  it  is.  I  wish 
to  speak  with  you,  and  do  not  let  us  waste  our 
time." 

I  had  no  objection  to  speaking  with  Mother 
Anastasia,  and,  giving  no  further  thought  to  the 
abandoned  vehicle,  I  walked  with  her  to  a  spot 
where  a  clump  of  straggling  locust-trees  threw  a 
scanty  shade  upon  the  sidewalk.  I  could  not  but 
feel  that  my  companion  had  something  important 
to  say  to  me,  for  she  was  evidently  a  good  deal 
agitated.  She  stepped  a  little  in  front  of  me,  and 
then  turned  and  faced  me. 

"  There  is  no  place  to  sit  down  here,"  she  said 
"  but  I  'm  not  tired,  are  you  ?  " 

I  assured  her  that  I  was  not,  and  would  as  soop 
talk  standing  as  sitting. 

"  Now,  then,"  she  began,  "  tell  me  about  youi- 
self.  What  have  you  been  doing?  What  are 
your  plans  ?  " 

"  My  plans !  "  I  cried.  "  Of  what  importance 
are  my  plans  and  actions  ?  I  thought  you  wished 
to  speak  to  me  of  Sylvia." 

She  smiled.  "There  is  really  nothing  to  say 
about  that  young  person,  of  whom,  by  the  way, 
you  should  not  speak  as  '  Sylvia.'  She  is  now  a 
full  member  of  the  sisterhood,  and  has  accepted 
the  name  of  '  Sister  Hagar.'  We  found  that  the 
other  sisters  would  not  like  it  if  an  exception  were 
made  in  her  favor,  in  regard  to  her  name." 

"  '  Hagar ! '  "  I  groaned.     "  Horrible  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Mother  Anastasia,  "  there  is 


A  BROKEN  TRACE.  267 

nothing  homble  about  it.  '  Hagar '  is  a  little 
harsh,  perhaps,  but  one  soon  gets  used  to  that  sort 
of  thing." 

"  I  can  never  get  used  to  it,"  I  said. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Vanderley,"  said  the  Mother 
Superior,  speaking  very  earnestly,  but  with  a  gen- 
tleness that  was  almost  affectionate,  "  I  wish  I 
could  impress  upon  your  mind  that  there  is  no 
need  of  your  getting  used  to  the  name  of  our  young 
lister,  or  of  your  liking  it  or  disliking  it.  You 
ought  thoroughly  to  understand,  from  what  she 
has  told  you,  and  from  what  I  have  told  you,  that 
she  never  can  be  anything  to  you,  and  that,  out  of 
regard  to  yourself,  if  to  no  one  else,  you  should 
cease  to  think  of  her  as  I  see  you  do  think." 

"  As  long  as  I  live  in  this  world,"  I  replied,  "  I 
shall  continue  to  think  of  her  as  I  do  think." 

Mother  Anastasia  gave  a  sigh.  "  The  unreason- 
ableness of  men  is  something  inexplicable.  Per- 
haps you  think  I  am  not  old  enough  to  give  you 
advice,  but  I  will  say  that,  for  your  own  sake,  you 
ought  to  crush  and  obliterate  the  feelings  you  have 
toward  our  sister  ;  and  if  you  do  not  choose  to  do 
it  for  your  own  sake,  you  ought  to  do  it  for  her 
sake  and  that  of  our  sisterhood.  It  makes  it  ex- 
tremely awkward  for  us,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  to 
know  that  there  is  a  gentleman  in  the  village  who 
is  in  love  with  one  of  the  sisters  of  the  House  of 
Martha." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  have  me  exile  myself,"  I 
replied,  "  leave  forever  ray  home,  my  grandmother, 
everything  that  is  dear  to  me,  and  all  for  the  sake 


268  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

of  the  peace  and  quiet  of  your  sisterhood.  Let  me 
assure  you  I  do  not  care  enough  for  your  sister- 
hood to  do  that." 

The  Mother  Superior  smiled  ironically,  but  not 
ill-naturedly.  "  I  am  very  much  afraid,"  she  re- 
marked, "  that  in  this  matter  you  care  for  no  one 
but  yourself.  There  is  nothing  so  selfish  as  a  man 
in  love." 

"  He  needs  to  be,"  I  answered.  "  But  tell  me, 
:<d  Sylvia  here  ?  " 

"  Sylvia  again,"  said  she,  half  laughing.  "  Yes, 
she  has  returned  to  the  House  of  Martha,  and  you 
can  see  for  yourself  that,  if  you  continue  in  your 
present  state  of  mind,  it  will  be  impossible  for  her 
ever  to  go  outside  of  the  house." 

"  I  shall  not  hurt  her,"  I  answered. 

"  Yes,  you  will  hurt  her,"  quickly  replied  Mo- 
ther Anastasia.  "  You  will  hurt  her  very  much, 
if  you  meet  her,  and  show  by  your  words,  looks,  or 
actions  that  your  former  attitude  toward  her  is  not 
changed."  She  came  nearer  to  me,  looking  into 
my  face  with  her  eyes  full  of  an  earnest  tenderness, 
and  as  she  spoke  she  laid  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
gently  upon  my  shoulder.  She  had  a  very  pleas- 
ant way  of  doing  this.  "  I  do  wish,"  she  said, 
"that  you  would  let  me  prevail  upon  you  to  do 
what  your  conscience  must  tell  you  is  right.  If 
you  have  ever  loved  the  girl  who  was^  once  Sylvia 
Raynor,  that  is  the  best  of  reasons  why  you  should 
cease  to  love  her  now.  You  owe  it  to  her  to  cease 
to  love  her." 

I  looked  steadily  into  the  face  of  the  Mother 
Superior. 


A  BROKEN  TRACE.  269 

"  You  promise  me  that  you  will  do  that  ?  "  she 
said,  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips  and  a  light  in  her 
eyes  which  might  have  won  over  almost  any  man 
to  do  almost  anything.  "You  promise  me  that 
you  will  allow  our  young  sister,  who  has  hardships 
enough  to  bear  without  any  more  being  thrust 
upon  her,  to  try  to  be  happy  in  the  way  she  has 
chosen,  and  that  you  will  try  to  be  happy  in  the 
way  you  should  have  chosen  ;  that  you  will  go  out 
into  the  world  and  act  your  part  in  life ;  that  you 
will  look  upon  this  affair  as  something  which  has 
vanished  into  the  past ;  and  that  you  will  say  to 
your  heart,  '  You  are  free,  if  not  by  my  will,  by 
the  irresistible  force  of  circumstances  '  ?  '* 

I  looked  at  her  a  few  moments  in  silence,  and 
then  answered,  very  quietly,  "  I  shall  do  nothing 
of  the  kind." 

She  gave  her  head  a  little  toss  and  stepped 
backward,  and  then,  with  a  half  laugh  which 
seemed  to  indicate  an  amused  hopelessness,  she 
said :  "  You  are  utterly  impracticable,  and  I  am 
certain  I  do  not  know  what  is  to  be  done  about  it. 
But  I  see  that  the  boy  has  returned  with  the  horse, 
and  I  must  continue  my  journey.  I  am  going  to 
the  Iron  Furnace  to  see  a  sick  woman.  I  wish  you 
would  think  of  what  I  have  said,  and  remember 
that  it  was  spoken  from  the  depth  of  my  soul. 
And  do  not  think,"  she  continued,  as  I  turned  and 
accompanied  her  toward  the  carriage,  "that  I  do 
not  appreciate  the  state  of  your  feelings.  I  under- 
stand them  thoroughly,  and  I  sympathize  with  you 
as  perhaps  only  a  woman  can  sympathize  ;  but  still 


270  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

I  say  to  you  that  there  are  some  things  in  this 
world  which  we  must  give  up,  and  which  we  ought 
to  give  up  promptly  and  willingly." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  that  if  Sylvia  were  to 
learn  typewriting  there  would  be  any  objection  to 
her  copying  manuscript  for  me  ?  " 

Mother  Anastasia  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  making  a  per- 
son of  my  position  behave  so  giddily  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  hack-driver." 

We  now  reached  the  carriage,  and  I  assisted  her 
to  enter  it. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  said,  her  face  still  per- 
turbed by  her  suddenly  checked  merriment,  "  and 
do  not  forget  the  counsels  I  have  given  you." 

I  bowed  and  stepped  back,  but  the  driver  did 
not  start.  He  sat  for  a  moment  irresolute,  and 
then,  turning  toward  Mother  Anastasia,  asked, 
"  Shall  I  wait  for  the  other  sister  ?  " 

"  Oh,  go  on  !  "  cried  the  Mother  Superior. 
"  There  is  no  other  sister." 

The  boy,  startled  by  her  tone,  gave  his  horse  a 
cut,  and  the  equipage  rattled  away.  I  walked 
slowly  homeward,  meditating  earnestly  upon  Mo- 
ther Anastasia's  words  and  upon  Mother  Anastasia. 


XXXIX. 

A   SOUL  WHISPER? 

My  meditations  upon  the  Mother  Superior  of 
the  House  of  Martha  were  not  concluded  during 
my  homeward  walk  ;  the  subject  occupied  my  mind 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  rest  of  the  day.  I  do 
not  call  myself  a  philosopher,  but  I  am  in  the  habit 
of  looking  into  the  nature  and  import  of  what  hap- 
pens about  me.  My  reflections  on  Mother  Ana- 
stasia  gradually  produced  in  me  the  conviction  that 
there  was  something  more  in  her  words,  her  man- 
ner, and  her  actions  than  would  appear  to  the  or^ 
dinary  observer. 

In  considering  this  matter,  I  went  back  to  the 
very  first  of  my  intercourse  with  this  beautiful 
woman,  who,  divested  of  the  dismal  disguise  of  her 
sisterhood,  had  produced  upon  my  memory  an  im- 
pression which  was  so  strong  that,  whenever  I  now 
thought  of  Mother  Anastasia,  she  appeared  before 
my  mental  vision  in  a  white  dress,  with  a  broad 
hat  and  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  her  belt.  In  the 
character  of  a  beautiful  and  sensible  woman,  and 
not  at  all  in  that  of  a  Mother  Superior,  she  had 
warmly  commended  my  suit  of  Sylvia  Eaynor. 
With  our  regard  for  Sylvia  as  a  basis,  we  had  con- 
sulted, we  had  confided,  we  had  shown  ourselves  to 
each  other  in  a  most  frank  and  friendly  manner. 


272  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

Suddenly  she  had  changed,  she  had  deserted  me 
without  a  word  of  explanation,  and  the  next  time 
I  saw  her  she  was  totally  opposed  to  my  maintain- 
ing any  connection  whatever  with  Sylvia. 

But  there  had  been  more  than  this.  This 
woman,  beautiful  even  in  her  gray  garb,  had  shown 
an  increasing  interest  in  the  subject,  which  could 
not  be  altogether  explained  by  her  interest  in  Syl- 
via. If  she  truly  believed  that  that  young  sister 
would  devote  her  life  to  the  service  of  the  House 
of  Martha,  that  matter  might  be  considered  as  set- 
tled ;  and  what  was  her  object  in  so  earnestly  en- 
deavoring to  impress  upon  my  mind  the  fact  that 
I  could  not  marry  Sylvia  ?  It  might  be  supposed 
that,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  I  should  be 
compelled  to  admit  this  point.  But  not  only  did 
she  continually  bring  up  this  view  of  the  subject, 
but  she  showed  such  a  growing  interest  in  me  and 
my  welfare  that  it  made  me  uneasy. 

It  is  almost  impossible  truly  to  understand  a 
woman  ;  most  men  will  admit  this.  I  could  not  say 
that  I  understood  Mother  Anastasia.  At  times  I 
hoped  I  did  not  understand  her.  From  what  I 
knew  of  the  constitution  of  the  sisterhood,  some  of 
its  members  were  vowed  to  it  for  life,  and  others 
for  a  stated  period.  Putting  together  this  and 
that  which  Mother  Anastasia  had  said  to  me  about 
the  organization,  it  did  not  appear  to  me  that  she 
felt  that  devotion  to  it  which  a  sister  for  life  would 
naturally  feel.  She  had  used  aU  the  art  of  a  logi- 
cian to  impress  upon  me  the  conviction  that  Sylvia 
was  a  life  sister,  and  could  be  nothing  else.     Was 


A  SOUL  WHISPER?  273 

it  possible — I  scarcely  dared  to  ask  myself  the 
question  —  that  she  had  used  the  arts  of  a  woman 
to  intimate  to  me  that  she  might  be  something  else  ? 
It  did  not  cross  my  mind  for  an  instant  that  any- 
thing that  Mother  Anastasia  had  said  to  me,  or 
anything  that  could  be  deduced  from  her  manner, 
was  in  the  slightest  degree  out  of  the  way.  A 
woman  has  a  right  to  indicate  her  position  in  re- 
gard to  a  fellow-being,  and  in  this  age  she  gener- 
ally does  indicate  it.  If  the  true  nature  of  Mother 
Anastasia  had  so  far  exerted  itself  as  to  impel  her, 
perhaps  involuntarily,  to  let  me  know  that  she  was 
as  much  a  woman  as  she  was  a  Mother  Superior, 
and  that  in  time  she  would  be  all  of  the  first  and 
not  any  of  the  latter,  she  had  truly  done  this  with 
a  delicate  ingenuousness  beyond  compare.  It  had 
not  been  the  exhalation  by  the  flower  of  inviting 
perfume  or  its  show  of  color  ;  it  had  been  the  sim- 
ple opening  of  the  blossom  to  the  free  sun  and  air 
before  my  eyes. 

My  last  interview  with  Mother  Anastasia  had 
crystallized  in  my  mind  a  mist  of  suppositions  and 
fancies  which  had  vaguely  floated  there  for  some 
time.  It  is  not  surprising  that  I  was  greatly 
moved  at  the  form  the  crystal  took. 

When  Walkirk  came,  the  next  day,  to  make  his 
usual  reports,  I  talked  to  him  of  Mother  Anasta- 
sia. Of  course  I  did  not  intimate  to  him  how  I 
had  been  thinking  of  her,  but  I  gave  him  as  many 
facts  as  possible,  in  order  that  I  might  discover 
what  he  would  think  of  her.  When  I  had  finished 
my  account  of  the  interview  of  the  morning  be- 


274  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA, 

fore,  I  could  see  that  a  very  decided  impression 
had  been  made  upon  him.  His  countenance 
twitched,  he  smiled,  he  looked  upon  the  floor.  For 
a  moment  I  thought  he  was  going  to  laugh. 

"  This  amuses  you,"  I  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  his  face  having  recovered 
its  ordinary  composure,  "  it  is  a  little  funny. 
Mother  Anastasia  seems  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a 
manager." 

"  Yes,"  I  said  reflectively,  "  that  is  true.  It  is 
quite  plain  that,  perceiving  an  opportunity  of  a  pri- 
vate conference  with  me,  she  took  advantage  of  the 
circumstances.  We  could  have  had  an  ordinary 
chat  just  as  well  in  one  place  as  another,  but  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  she  did  not  wish  the  boy  who 
was  unhitching  the  horse  to  hear  even  the  first 
words  of  our  conversation.  As  you  say,  she  is  a 
good  manager,  and  I  had  my  suspicions  of  that 
before  you  mentioned  it."  As  I  said  this  I  could 
not  help  smiling,  as  I  thought  how  surprised  he 
would  be  if  he  knew  in  what  direction  my  sus- 
picions pointed.  "Do  you  know,"  I  continued, 
"  if  it  is  necessary  that  the  head  of  a  sisterhood 
should  be  a  life  member  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  heard,"  he  answered,  "  but  I 
have  been  informed  that  the  organization  of  the 
House  of  Martha  is  a  very  independent  one,  and 
does  not  attempt  to  conform  itself  to  that  of  any 
other  sisterhood.  The  women  who  founded  it  had 
ideas  of  their  own,  and  what  rules  and  laws  they 
made  I  do  not  know." 

For  a  few  moments  I  walked  up  and  down  the 


A  SOUL  WHISPER?  275 

room ;  then  I  asked,  "  How  did  Mother  Anastasia 
come  to  be  the  Mother  Superior  ?  " 

"I  have  been  told,"  said  Walkirk,  "that  she 
gave  most  of  the  money  for  the  founding  of  the 
institution,  and  it  was  natural  enough  that  she 
should  be  placed  at  the  head.  I  have  an  idea  that 
she  would  not  have  been  willing  to  enter  the 
House  except  as  its  head." 

"  It  is  about  four  years  since  it  was  established, 
is  it  not  ?  "  I  asked ;  and  Walkirk  assured  me 
that  I  was  correct. 

All  this  information  ranged  itself  on  the  side  of 
conviction.  She  was  just  the  woman  to  try  a  thing 
of  this  kind  for  a  stated  time ;  she  was  just  the 
woman  not  to  like  it ;  and  she  was  just  the  woman 
whose  soul  could  not  be  prevented  from  whispering 
that  the  gates  of  the  bright  world  were  opening  be- 
fore her.  But  why  should  her  soul  whisper  this  to 
me  ?     The  whole  matter  troubled  me  very  much. 

I  determined  not  to  base  any  action  upon  what 
had  thus  forced  itself  upon  my  mind.  I  would 
wait.  I  would  see  what  would  happen  next.  I 
would  persist  in  my  determination  never  to  give 
up  Sylvia.  And  I  will  mention  that  there  was  a 
little  point  in  connection  with  her  which  at  this 
time  greatly  annoyed  me  :  whenever  I  thought  of 
her,  she  appeared  before  me  in  the  gray  dress  of  a 
sister,  and  not  as  I  had  seen  her  on  the  island.  I 
wished  very  much  that  this  were  not  the  case. 


XL. 

AN  INSPIRATION. 

I  NOW  found  myself  in  an  embarrassing  situa- 
tion. All  my  plans  and  hopes  of  tidings  from 
Sylvia,  or  of  aiuy  possible  connection  with  her, 
were  based  upon  Mother  Anastasia.  But  would  it 
be  wise  for  me  to  continue  my  very  friendly  rela- 
tions with  the  Mother  Superior  ?  On  my  side  these 
relations  were  extremely  pleasant,  though  that  did 
not  matter,  one  way  or  another.  But  would  it  be 
kind  and  just  to  her  to  meet  with  her  on  the  foot- 
ing I  had  enjoyed  ?  In  every  point  of  this  affair  I 
wished  to  be  honorable  and  considerate.  Acting 
on  these  principles,  I  went  away  for  two  weeks. 
It  was  very  hard  for  me  to  absent  myself  for  so 
long  a  period  from  Arden,  but  it  was  my  duty. 
To  take  the  chances  of  another  meeting  with 
Mother  Anastasia,  following  close  upon  the  recent 
one,  which  had  made  so  forcible  an  impression 
upon  me,  would  be  imprudent.  A  moderate  ab- 
sence might  be  of  great  advantage. 

On  my  return  I  took  to  strolling  about  the  vil- 
lage, especially  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  House 
of  Martha  ;  and  if,  in  these  strolls,  I  had  met  the 
Mother  Superior,  I  should  not  have  hesitated  to 
aocost  her  and  ask  news  of  Sylvia.     For  more  rear 


AN  INSPIBATION.  277 

sons  than  one,  I  felt  it  was  highly  desirable  that  I 
should  impress  it  on  the  mind  of  Mother  Anasta- 
sia  that  my  interest  in  Sylvia  had  not  in  the  least 
abated. 

But  several  days  passed,  and  I  met  no  one  clad 
in  gray  bonnet  and  gown.  I  was  disappointed; 
there  were  a  good  many  questions  about  Sylvia 
which  I  wished  to  ask,  and  a  good  many  things  in 
regard  to  her  that  I  wished  to  say.  I  might  go  to 
the  House  of  Martha  and  boldly  ask  to  see  the 
Mother  Superior ;  but  a  step  like  that  might  pro- 
duce an  undesirable  impression,  and  naturally  the 
position  in  which  I  had  placed  myself  regarding 
Sylvia  would  prevent  my  going  to  visit  her. 

As  I  could  do  nothing  for  myseK  in  this  matter, 
I  must  ask  some  one  to  help  me,  and  there  was  no 
one  so  willing  and  able  to  do  this  as  my  grand- 
mother. She  could  go  to  the  House  of  Martha 
and  ask  what  questions  she  pleased.  I  went  to  the 
dear  old  lady  and  made  known  my  desires.  She 
laid  down  her  knitting  and  gave  me  her  whole  at- 
tention. 

"  Now  tell  me  exactly  what  it  is  you  want,"  she 
said.  "  You  cannot  expect  to  be  asked  to  take  tea 
with  the  sisters,  you  know,  though  I  see  no  reason 
why  you  should  not.  Say  what  they  will,  they  are 
not  nuns." 

"  What  I  want,"  I  replied,  "  is  to  know  how 
Sylvia  is,  what  she  is  doing,  all  about  her.  I  do 
not  even  know  that  she  is  still  there." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  my  grandmother,  very  ten- 
derly, "  I  suppose  that  even  if  you  are  obliged  to 


278  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

give  up  all  hope  of  ever  having  Sylvia  for  your 
own,  you  will  want  to  know  every  day  for  the  rest 
of  your  life  just  how  she  is  getting  on." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  that  is  true." 

"Poor  fellow,"  said  the  old  lady,  her  eyes  a 
little  dimmed  as  she  spoke,  "  the  fates  have  not 
been  using  you  well.  Is  there  anything  else  you 
want  me  to  inquire  about  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  answered.  "  I  take  a  great  in- 
terest in  the  institution." 

"Which  is  tiatural  enough,  since  Sylvia  is 
there,"  interpolated  my  grandmother. 

"  And  I  should  be  glad,"  I  continued,  "  to  know 
anything  of  interest  regarding  the  sisterhood,  from 
the  Mother  Superior  down." 

"  Mother  Anastasia  is  a  very  fine  woman,"  said 
my  grandmother,  "  and  I  should  think  you  would 
be  likely  to  be  greatly  interested  in  her.  I  am 
going  to  make  some  inquiries  about  the  rules  of 
the  House  of  Martha.  I  see  no  reason  why  the 
sisters  should  not  occasionally  accept  invitations 
to  tea." 

This  remark  startled  me,  and  I  was  prompted 
to  make  a  cautionary  observation.  But  I  re- 
strained myself;  in  cases  like  this  interference 
would  be  likely  to  provoke  comment,  and  by  my 
grandmother's  desire  I  went  to  order  the  car- 
riage. 

In  less  than  an  hour  she  returned.  I  was 
promptly  at  hand  to  receive  her  report. 

"  WeU,"  said  she,  "  I  have  visited  the  sisters, 
but  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  see  Mother  Anastasia. 
She  was  away." 


AN  INSPIRATION.  279 

"  Away  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Where  has  she 
gone  ?  " 

"  She  went  to  Washington  more  than  a  week 
ago,"  was  the  answer. 

'*  For  a  long  stay  ?  "  I  asked  quickly. 

"  The  sisters  did  not  know,"  continued  my 
grandmother,  "  but  their  impression  is  that  she 
will  return  in  a  few  days." 

I  knitted  my  brows. 

"You  are  disappointed,  and  so  am  I.  I  in- 
tended to  ask  her  here  to  tea  next  Friday,  and  to 
urge  her,  if  she  did  not  too  greatly  object,  to  bring 
Sylvia  with  her.  There  is  nothing  like  quiet  in- 
tercourse of  that  kind  to  break  down  obstacles." 

"  Alas,"  I  said,  "  I  am  afraid  there  are  ob- 
stacles "  — 

"But  do  not  let  us  talk  about  them,"  she  in- 
terrupted. "  Nobody  knows  what  will  happen, 
and  let  us  be  as  happy  as  we  can." 

"  Did  you  see  Sylvia  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  had  some  talk 
with  her,  but  it  did  not  amount  to  much.  She  is 
trying  to  make  a  regular  nun  of  herself,  —  that  is, 
if  a  Protestant  can  be  a  nun,  —  but  I  do  not  think 
she  will  ever  succeed.  She  admitted  that  she 
greatly  disliked  the  ordinary  work  of  the  sisters, 
and  wished  to  employ  herself  in  some  way  which 
would  be  just  as  lucrative  to  the  institution,  and 
yet  not  so  repugnant  to  her.  Now  you  can  see 
for  yourself  that  that  will  not  do.  If  she  intends 
to  be  a  sister  of  the  House  of  Martha,  she  must  do 
as  the  other  sisters  do.     She  cannot  always  expect 


280  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAUTHA. 

to  be  an  exception.     At  present  she  is  learning 
typewriting." 

I  gave  a  great  start.  "  Typewriting ! "  I  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  my  grandmother.  "  Is  it  not  odd 
that  she  should  have  taken  up  that  ?  She  has  a 
machine,  and  practices  steadily  on  it.  She  showed 
me  some  of  her  printed  sheets,  and  I  must  say,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  that  I  should  prefer  plain 
handwriting,  where  the  letters  are  not  so  likely  to 
get  on  top  of  one  another.  She  wanted  to  know 
if  I  could  give  her  any  advice  about  getting  work, 
when  she  thought  she  could  do  it  well  enough ;  but 
of  course  I  know  nothing  about  such  things.  My 
hope  is  that  she  will  get  to  dislike  that  as  much  as 
she  does  nursing  and  apothecary  work,  and  to  find 
out  that  her  real  duty  is  to  live  like  an  ordinary 
human  being,  and  so  make  herself  and  other  peo- 
ple truly  happy." 

I  do  not  know  that  there  is  any  inherent  con- 
nection between  a  typewriting  machine  and  the 
emotions  and  sentiments  of  love,  but  in  this  case 
such  a  connection  instantly  established  itself  in  my 
mind.  It  seemed  plain  to  me  that  Walkirk's  sug- 
gestion to  Sylvia  had  taken  root ;  and  why  did 
she  wish  to  typewrite,  if  she  did  not  wish  to  type- 
write for  me  ?  Was  this  an  endeavor  of  her  tender 
heart  to  keep  up  a  thread  of  connection  with  me 
which  should  not  be  inconsistent  with  the  duties, 
the  vows,  and  the  purposes  of  her  life?  Dear 
girl !  If  the  thing  could  be  managed,  she  should 
typewrite  for  me  as  much  as  she  wished,  even  if 


AN  INSPIRATION.  281 

she  piled  the  letters  on  one  another  as  high  as  the 
Great  Pyramid. 

With  much  enthusiasm,  I  communicated  to 
Walkirk  my  intention  to  employ  Sylvia  in  type- 
writing, and  requested  his  assistance  in  regard  to 
the  details  of  the  business.  I  could  easily  furnish 
her  material  enough.  I  had  lots  of  things  I  should 
like  to  have  copied,  and  I  was  ready  to  prepare  a 
great  deal  more.  My  under-study  made  no  allu- 
sion to  my  previous  reception  of  his  suggestion 
about  typewriting,  but  brought  his  practical,  mind 
to  bear  upon  the  matter,  and  advised  that  prelimi- 
nary arrangements  should  be  made  immediately. 
In  a  case  like  this  it  was  well  to  be  in  time,  and 
to  secure  the  services  of  Miss  Raynor  at  once. 
I  agreed  with  Walkirk  that  it  was  very  wise  to 
take  time  by  the  forelock,  but  Mother  Anastasia 
was  the  only  person  who  could  properly  regulate 
this  affair,  which  should  be  instantly  laid  before 
her ;  and  as  it  was  impossible  to  find  out  when 
she  would  return  to  Arden,  I  felt  that  it  was  my 
duty  to  go  to  her.  When  I  mentioned  this  plan 
to  Walkirk,  he  offered  to  go  in  my  place,  but  I 
declined.  This  was  a  very  delicate  affair,  to  which 
no  one  could  attend  as  well  as  I  could  myself. 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  do  you  suppose  that  the 
Mother  Superior  will  appear  in  Washington  under 
her  real  name,  or  as  Mother  Anastasia  ?  And,  by 
the  way,  what  is  her  real  name  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible,"  exclaimed  Walkirk,  "  that  you 
do  not  know  it  ?  It  is  Raynor,  —  Miss  Marcia 
Raynor.     She  is  a  cousin  of  the  younger  lady." 


282  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAETHA. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that,"  I  replied ;  "  but  it 
never  occurred  to  me  to  inquire  what  name  Mother 
Anastasia  bore  before  she  entered  the  House  of 
Martha.  The  first  thing  for  me  to  do  is  to  get  her 
Washington  address." 

"  And  may  I  ask,"  continued  Walkirk,  "  how 
you  are  going  to  do  that  ?  " 

I  was  not  prepared  to  give  an  immediate  answer 
to  this  question. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  remarked  presently,  "  that  it 
would  not  do  to  ask  for  the  address  at  the  House 
of  Martha,  but  I  could  go  to  Sylvia's  mother.  I 
should  like  to  call  there,  any  way,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  she  would  know  where  Mother  Anastasia 
would  be  likely  to  stop." 

My  under-study  shook  his  head.  "  Pardon  me," 
he  said,  "  but  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  wise  to 
go  to  Mrs.  Raynor.  She  would  be  sure  to  connect 
her  daughter  with  your  urgent  desire  to  see  Mo- 
ther Anastasia,  and  she  would  not  hesitate  to 
question  you  on  the  matter.  I  think  I  under- 
stand her  disposition  in  regard  to  you  and  Miss 
Eaynor,  and  I  am  very  certain  that  when  she 
heard  of  the  typewriting  scheme  she  would  in- 
stantly put  her  foot  on  it ;  and  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken," he  continued,  with  a  noticeable  deference 
in  his  tone,  "  that  is  the  only  reason  you  can  give 
for  your  wish  to  confer  with  Mother  Anastasia." 

I  strode  impatiently  up  and  down  the  room. 
"  Certainly  it  is,"  said  I,  "  and  although  it  is 
reason  enough,  I  suppose  you  are  right,  and  it 
would  not  do  to  offer  it  to  Mrs.  Raynor ;  and,  for 


AN  INSPIBATION.  283 

the  matter  of  that,  Mother  Anastasia  may  think 
it  a  very  little  thing  to  take  me  down  to  Washing- 
ton." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,"  said  Walkirk,  "  and 
that  was  one  reason  why  I  proposed  to  go  in  your 
stead." 

I  made  no  answer  to  this  remark.  My  mind 
was  filled  with  annoying  reflections  about  the  un- 
reasonableness of  people  who  insist  upon  knowing 
people's  reasons  for  doing  things,  and  my  annoy- 
ance was  increased  by  the  conviction,  now  that  I 
looked  more  closely  into  the  matter,  that  the  only 
reason  I  could  give  for  hastening  after  Mother 
Anastasia  in  this  way  was  indeed  a  very  little  one. 

"Walkirk,"  I  exclaimed,  "can't  you  think  of 
some  other  reason  for  my  seeing  the  Mother  Su- 
perior without  delay  ?  " 

"  Truly,"  he  replied,  smiling,  "  it  is  rather  diffi- 
cult. You  might  offer  to  build  an  annex  to  the 
House  of  Martha,  but  such  a  matter  could  surely 
wait  until  the  return  of  the  Mother  Superior." 

I  sniffed,  and  continued  to  stride.  I  must  see 
Mother  Anastasia  in  Washington,  because  there 
I  might  have  a  chance  of  speaking  to  her  freely, 
which  I  could  not  expect  to  have  anywhere  else ; 
and  yet  how  was  I  going  to  explain  to  her,  or  to 
any  one  else,  my  desire  to  speak  with  her  at  all  ? 
It  might  have  been  difficult  to  explain  this  to  my- 
self ;  at  all  events,  I  did  not  try  to  do  it.  Sud- 
denly an  idea  struck  me. 

"  Annex !  "  I  cried,  —  "  capital !  " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Walkirk,  rising  in  much 


284  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

agitation,  "  I  hope  you  do  not  think  that  I  seriously 
proposed  your  building  an  annex  to  "  — 

"  Building !  "  I  interrupted.  "  Nonsense !  The 
annex  I  am  thinking  of  is  quite  different;  and 
yet  not  altogether  so,  either.  Walkirk,  don't  you 
think  that  a  man  in  my  position  could  do  a  great 
deal  to  help  those  sisters  in  their  good  work? 
Don't  you  think  that  he  could  act  as  an  outside 
collaborator?  I  am  sure  there  are  many  things 
he  could  do  which  might  not  be  suitable  for  them 
to  do,  or  which  they  might  not  want  to  do.  For 
instance,  this  business  that  has  taken  Mother 
Anastasia  to  Washington.  Perhaps  it  is  some- 
thing that  she  hates  to  do,  and  I  might  have  done 
as  well  as  not.  I  have  a  mind  to  propose  to  her 
to  go  in  and  take  all  this  sort  of  thing  off  the 
hands  of  the  sisters.  I  think  that  is  a  good  prac- 
tical idea,  and  it  is  very  natural  that  I  should  wish 
to  propose  it  to  her  at  the  very  time  she  is  engaged 
in  this  outside  business." 

"  In  a  word,"  remarked  Walkirk,  "  you  would 
make  yourself  a  brother  of  the  House  of  Martha." 

I  laughed.     "  That  is  not  a  bad  notion,"  I  said ; 
"  in  fact,  it  is  a  very  good  one.     I  do  not  know 
that  I  shall  put  the  matter  exactly  in  that  light,  ^ 
but  a  brother  of  the  House  of  Martha  is  what  I  ^ 
should  like  to  be.     Then  I  should  be  free  to  dis-  n 
cuss  all  sorts  of  things,  and  to  do  all  sorts  of  things. 
And  I  could  be  of  a  lot  of  service,  I  am  sure.     But 
I  shall   approach  the  matter  cautiously.     I  shall 
begin  with  a  simple  offer  of  service,  and,  perhaps, 
for  the  present  I  may  drop  the  typewriting  plan. 


AN  INSPIRATION,  285 

Now  for  Mother  Anastasia's  address.  I  must  get 
that  without  delay." 

Walkirk  did  not  seem  to  have  paid  attention  to 
this  last  remark.  His  mind  appeared  occupied 
with  amusing  reflections. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  in  apologizing  for 
his  abstraction,  "  but  I  was  thinking  what  a  funny 
thing  it  would  be  to  be  a  brother  of  the  House 
of  Martha.  As  to  the  address  —  let  me  see.  Do 
you  remember  that  lady  who  was  staying  with  Mrs. 
Kaynor,  at  her  island,  who  called  herself  a  Person, 
—  Miss  Laniston  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  remember  her,"  I  answered,  "  and 
with  the  greatest  disgust." 

"  I  happen  to  know  her  address,"  said  Walkirk, 
"  and  I  think  she  is  more  likely  to  give  you  the 
information  you  want  than  Mrs.  Raynor.  If  you 
do  not  care  to  confer  with  her,  I  can  go  to  the 
city"- 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  She  might  ob- 
ject to  giving  you  the  address ;  I  shall  insist  that 
she  give  it  to  me.  I  think  I  can  manage  the  mat- 
ter.    She  owes  me  something,  and  she  knows  it." 

In  fact,  I  did  not  care  to  trust  Walkirk  with 
this  affair.  It  was  plain  that  he  did  not  thor- 
oughly sympathize  with  me  in  the  project.  I  was 
afraid  he  might  make  a  blunder,  or  in  some  way 
fail  me.  Any  way,  this  was  a  matter  which  I 
wished  to  attend  to  myself. 


XLL 

MISS  LANISTON. 

At  eight  o'clock  that  evening  I  was  at  the  house 
of  Miss  Laniston.  The  lady  was  at  home,  and 
received  me.  She  advanced  with  both  hands  ex- 
tended. 

"  Truly,"  she  cried,  "  this  is  the  most  charming 
instance  of  masculine  forgiveness  I  have  ever  wit- 
nessed." 

I  took  one  of  her  hands  ;  this  much  for  the  sake 
of  policy.  "  Madam,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not  thinking 
of  forgiveness,  or  unf orgiveness.  I  am  here  to  ask 
a  favor ;  and  if  you  grant  it,  I  am  willing  that  it 
shall  counterbalance  everything  between  us  which 
suggests  forgiveness." 

"  Dear  me !  "  she  exclaimed,  leading  the  way  to 
a  sofa.  "  Sit  down,  and  let  me  know  my  oppor- 
tunities." 

I  did  not  want  to  sit  down,  but,  as  I  said  before, 
I  felt  that  I  must  be  politic,  and  so  took  a  seat  on 
the  other  end  of  the  sofa. 

"  My  errand  is  a  very  simple  one,"  I  said.  "  I 
merely  want  to  know  the  address  of  Mother 
Anastasia,  in  Washington." 

The  lady  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  looked 
at  me  steadily. 


MISS  LANISTON.  287 

"  Very  simple,  indeed,"  she  said.  "  Why  do 
you  come  to  me  for  this  address  ?  Would  not  the 
sisters  give  it  to  you?  " 

"  For  various  reasons  I  did  not  care  to  ask 
them,"  I  replied. 

"  One  of  them  being,  I  suppose^  that  you  knew 
you  would  not  get  it." 

I  did  not  reply  to  this  remark. 

"  If  you  know  the  address,"  I  inquired,  "  will 
you  kindly  give  it  to  me  ?  It  is  necessary  that  I 
should  have  it  at  once." 

*'  To  telegraph  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  her." 

"  Oh !  "  ejaculated  the  lady,  and  there  was  a 
pause  in  the  conversation.  "  It  does  not  strike 
me,"  she  said  presently,  "  that  I  have  any  author- 
ity to  tell  gentlemen  where  to  find  Mother  Ana- 
stasia,  but  I  can  telegraph  and  ask  her  if  she  is 
willing  that  I  shall  send  you  to  her." 

This  proposition  did  not  suit  me  at  all.  I  was 
quite  sure  that  the  Mother  Superior  would  not 
consider  it  advisable  that  I  should  come  to  her, 
and  would  ask  me  to  postpone  my  communication 
until  she  should  return  to  Arden.  But  Arden,  as 
I  had  found,  would  be  a  very  poor  place  for  the 
long  and  earnest  interview  which  I  desired. 

"  That  would  not  do,"  I  answered ;  "  she  would 
not  understand.  I  wish  to  see  her  on  an  important 
matter,  which  can  be  explained  only  in  a  personal 
interview." 

"  You  excite  my  curiosity,"  said  Miss  Laniston. 
"  Why  don't  you  make  me  your  confidante  ?     In 


288  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

that  case,  I  might  decide  whether  or  not  it  would 
be  proper  to  give  you  the  address." 

"  Impossible,"  I  said,  —  "  that  would  be  impos- 
sible." 

Miss  Laniston's  eyes  were  of  a  blue  gray,  and 
very  fine  ones,  and  she  fixed  them  upon  me  with  a 
lively  intentness. 

"  Do  you  still  hope,"  she  asked,  "  to  marry  Sylvia 
Raynor?  Surely  you  must  know  that  is  impos- 
sible. She  is  now  a  member  for  life  of  the  sister- 
hood." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  I  replied  impatiently.  "  It 
is  not  about  that  matter  that  I  wish  to  see  the 
Mother  Superior." 

"Is  it  then  about  Mother  Anastasia  herself? 
Do  you  wish  to  marry  her  ?  " 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  in  my  excitement.  "  Why 
do  you  speak  to  me  in  that  way,"  I  exclaimed, 
"  and  about  a  woman  who  is  at  the  head  of  a  reli- 
gious institution,  and  whose  earthly  existence  is 
devoted  to  it?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  quietly  answered  the  lady.  "  Mo- 
ther Anastasia  is  not  a  life  member  of  the  sister- 
hood of  the  House  of  Martha." 

At  these  words  my  blood  began  to  boil  within 
me  in  a  manner  which  I  could  not  comprehend. 
My  eyeballs  seemed  to  burn,  as  I  stood  and  gazed 
speechlessly  at  my  companion. 

"  You  take  such  an  interest  in  these  sisters," 
she  said,  "  that  I  supposed  you  knew  that  Mother 
Anastasia  joined  the  sisterhood  only  for  a  term  of 
years,  now  nearly  expired.     She  was  made  Mother 


MISS  LANISTON.  289 

Superior  because  those  who  helped  form  the  insti- 
tution knew  that  no  one  else  could  so  well  fill  the 
place,  especially  during  its  first  years.  I  was  one 
of  those  persons.'* 

I  do  not  remember  a  time  when  my  mind  was  in 
such  a  state  of  ungovernable  emotion.  Not  only 
was  I  unable  to  control  my  feelings,  but  I  did  not 
know  what  they  were.  One  thing  only  could  I 
comprehend  :  I  must  remove  this  impression  from 
the  mind  of  Miss  Laniston,  and  I  could  think  of 
no  other  way  of  doing  it  than  to  confide  to  her  the 
business  on  which  I  wished  to  see  Mother  Ana- 
stasia.  I  reseated  myself  on  the  sofa,  and  without 
delay  or  preface  I  laid  before  her  my  plan  of  col- 
laboration with  the  sisters  of  the  House  of  Martha ; 
explaining  how  much  better  a  man  could  attend  to 
certain  outside  business  than  the  sisters  could  do 
it,  and  showing  how,  in  a  manner,  I  proposed  to 
become  a  brother  of  the  House  of  Martha.  Thus 
only  could  I  defend  myself  against  her  irrational 
and  agitating  suppositions. 

She  heard  me  to  the  end,  and  then  she  leaned 
back  on  the  sofa  and  laughed,  —  laughed  until  I 
thought  the  people  in  the  street  must  hear  her.  I 
was  hurt,  but  said  nothing. 

"  You  must  excuse  me,"  she  said,  when  she  was 
able  to  speak,  "  but  this  is  so  sudden  my  mind  is 
not  prepared  for  it.  And  so  you  wish  to  become 
a  brother  of  the  House  of  Martha  ?  I  would  be 
solemn  about  it  if  I  could,  but  really  I  cannot," 
and  again  she  laughed. 

I  was  about  to  retire,  but  she  checked  me. 


2G0  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Do  not  go,"  she  said  ;  "  do  not  be  angry.  For- 
get that  I  laughed.  Now  perhaps  I  can  help  you. 
I  will  make  you  a  promise.  If  you  will  agree 
faithfully  to  tell  me  how  Mother  Anastasia  re- 
ceives your  proposition,  I  will  give  you  her  ad- 
dress." 

"  Promise,"  I  said  severely.  "  You  may  remem- 
ber that  this  is  not  the  first  time  you  have  made 
me  a  promise." 

"  Don't  bring  up  that  old  affair !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"What  I  did  fhen  could  not  be  helped.  When 
we  had  our  talk  about  the  sister  with  whom  you 
had  fallen  in  love,  I  had  no  idea  she  was  Syl- 
via Raynor,  the  daughter  of  my  hostess.  When 
I  discovered  the  truth,  I  had  to  drop  the  whole 
affair.  Any  person  of  honor  would  have  done 
that.  I  could  not  help  its  being  funny,  you 
know." 

I  had  become  calmer,  and  was  able  to  be  politic 
again. 

"  If  Mother  Anastasia  will  allow  me,"  I  said, 
"I  am  willing  to  promise  to  tell  you  what  she 
thinks  of  my  plan." 

"  Very  good,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  a  bargain. 
She  is  stopping  with  a  friend,  Mrs.  Gardley,  at 
906  Alaska  Avenue.  I  address  her  as  '  Miss  Ray- 
nor,'  because  I  always  do  that  when  I  have  a 
chance,  but  I  think  it  will  be  weU  for  you  to  ask 
for  Mother  Anastasia." 

I  arose,  and  she  followed  my  example. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  she,  "  we  are  friends,"  and 
her  sparkling  eyes  seemed  to  have  communicated 


MISS  LANISTON.  291 

their  merriment  to  the  gems  upon  the  white  hand 
which  she  held  out  to  me. 

I  took  the  hand,  and  as  I  did  so  a  politic  idea 
flashed  up  within  me.  If  I  must  be  friends  with 
this  woman,  why  not  make  use  of  her  ?  This  was 
a  moment  when  she  was  well  disposed  to  serve 
me. 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  consider  me  a  friend," 
I  replied,  still  holding  her  hand,  "  you  will  not  re- 
fuse to  tell  me  something  which  I  have  long  wanted 
to  know,  and  which  I  ought  to  know." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  was  the  trouble,  which  caused  Sylvia 
Raynor  to  enter  the  House  of  Martha  ?  " 

She  withdrew  her  hand  and  reflected  for  a 
moment. 

"  Man  is  an  inquisitive  animal,"  she  answered, 
"  but  we  cannot  alter  his  nature,  and  there  is  some 
excuse  for  your  wanting  to  know  all  about  Sylvia. 
She  is  out  of  your  reach,  of  course,  but  you  have 
certainly  taken  as  much  interest  in  her  as  a  man 
can  take  in  a  woman.  The  matter  is  not  a  close 
secret,  and  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that 
the  cause  of  her  entering  the  sisterhood  was  no- 
thing at  all  out  of  the  conunon.  It  was  simply  a 
thwarted  love  afPair.  You  don't  like  that,  I  can 
see  by  your  face." 

"  No,  I  do  not  like  it,  and  I  am  very  sorry  to 
hear  it." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  she,  "  you  must  be  early  on 
hand  and  prompt  in  action  to  be  Number  One 
with  a  girl  like  Sylvia;  but  then,  you  know,  a 


292  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

Number  One  seldom  counts.  In  this  case,  how- 
ever, he  did  count,  for  he  made  a  Number  Two 
impossible." 

"  Not  so,"  I  cried  hotly.  "  I  am  Number  Two, 
and  shall  always  continue  so.^* 

She  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  "  that 
it  will  be  necessary  for  a  brother  of  the  House  of 
Martha  to  get  rid  of  that  sort  of  feeling." 

"  How  was  she  thwarted  ?  "  I  asked  quickly. 

"  The  story  is  briefly  this,"  replied  Miss  Lanis- 
ton :  "  A  certain  gentleman  courted  Sylvia's 
cousin,  and  everybody  supposed  they  would  be 
married ;  but  in  some  way  or  other  he  treated  her 
badly,  and  the  match  was  broken  off ;  then,  a 
few  years  later,  this  same  person  fell  in  love  with 
Sylvia,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  previous  affair. 
The  young  girl  found  him  a  most  attractive  lover, 
and  he  surely  would  have  won  her  had  not  her  mo- 
ther stepped  in  and  put  an  extinguisher  upon  the 
whole  affair.  She  knew  what  had  happened  be- 
fore, and  would  not  have  the  man  in  her  family. 
Then  it  was  that  Sylvia  found  the  world  a  blank, 
and  concluded  to  enter  the  sisterhood." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  I  asked,  "  that  the  cousin  with 
whom  the  man  was  first  in  love  was  Marcia  Ray- 
nor,  Mother  Anastasia?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Miss  Laniston,  "it  was  she. 
You  do  not  like  that  ?  " 

Like  it !  A  cold  and  tingling  pain  ran  through 
my  body,  and  there  sprang  up  in  me  an  emotion 
of  the  intensest  hatred  for  a  person  whom  I  had 
never  seen. 


MISS  LANISTON.  293 

My  feelings  were  such  as  I  could  not  express ; 
the  situation  was  one  which  I  could  not  discuss. 
I  took  leave  of  Miss  Laniston  without  giving  suffi- 
cient consideration  to  her  expression  of  counte- 
nance and  to  her  final  words  now  to  be  able  to  say 
whether  they  indicated  amusement  or  sympathy. 


XLH. 

THE  MOTHER  SUPERIOR. 

Seldom,  I  think,  has  a  berth  in  a  sleeping-car 
held  a  more  turbulent  -  minded  man  than  I  was 
during  my  journey  from  New  York  to  Wash- 
ington. The  revelation  that  the  same  man  had 
loved  and  been  loved  by  Mother  Anastasia  and  by 
Sylvia  had  disquieted  me  in  a  manner  not  easy  to 
explain  ;  but  I  knew  that  I  was  being  torn  by  jeal- 
ousy, and  jealousy  is  a  passion  which  it  is  some- 
times impossible  to  explain. 

An  idea  which  came  into  my  mind  in  the  night 
increased  the  storm  within  me.  I  imagined  that 
the  wretch  who  had  made  suit  to  both  Marcia  and 
Sylvia  was  Walkirk.  He  knew  a  good  deal  about 
these  women ;  sometimes  I  was  surprised  to  discover 
how  much  he  knew.  Perhaps  now,  acting  in  a 
base  disguise,  he  was  endeavoring  to  make  of  me  a 
stepping-stone  to  his  ultimate  success  with  one  or 
the  other.     Hound !     I  would  crush  him  ! 

My  thoughts  ran  rapidly  backward.  I  remem- 
bered how  zealous  he  had  been  in  following  Miss 
Raynor's  yacht.  He  had  told  me  of  his  conversa- 
tions with  Sylvia,  but  what  reason  had  I  to  believe 
he  spoke  the  truth  ?  That  any  man  should  have 
loved  these  two  women  filled  me  with  rage.     That 


THE  MOTHER  SUPERIOR.  295 

that  man  should  be  Walkirk  was  an  insupportable 
thought.  I  was  not  only  jealous  but  I  felt  myself 
the  victim  of  a  treacherous  insult. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  I  reached  Washing- 
ton, but,  although  I  had  arrived  at  my  destination, 
I  could  give  no  thought  to  the  object  of  my  jour- 
ney until  I  had  discovered  the  truth  about  Wal- 
kirk.    That  was  all-important. 

But  of  whom  should  I  inquire  ?  I  could  think 
of  no  one  but  Miss  Laniston.  I  had  been  a  fool 
not  to  ask  her  the  name  of  the  man  when  I  was 
with  her.  But  I  would  telegraph  to  her  now,  and 
ask  for  it.  She  might  be  asleep  at  that  hour,  but 
I  believed  she  was  a  woman  who  would  awake  and 
answer  my  question  and  then  go  to  sleep  again. 

I  immediately  went  to  the  telegraph  office,  and 
sent  this  message  :  "  What  is  the  name  of  the  man 
of  whom  we  spoke  last  evening  ?  It  is  necessary 
that  I  know  it.  Please  answer  at  once."  She 
would  understand  this.  We  had  spoken  of  but 
one  man. 

For  nearly  an  hour  I  walked  the  floor  and  tossed 
over  the  morning  papers,  and  then  came  the  an- 
swer to  my  message.  It  was  this :  "  Brownson. 
He  is  dead." 

There  is  a  quality  in  the  air  of  Washington 
which  is  always  delightful  to  me,  but  I  think  it  has 
never  affected  me  as  it  did  that  morning.  As  I 
breathed  it,  it  exhilarated  me ;  it  cheered  and 
elated  me  ;  it  rose-tinted  my  emotions ;  it  gave  me 
an  appetite  for  my  breakfast;  it  made  me  feel 
ready  for  any  enterprise. 


296  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

As  soon  as  I  thought  it  proper  to  make  a  morn- 
ing call  I  went  to  number  906  Alaska  Avenue. 
There  I  found  a  large  and  handsome  house,  of  that 
independent  and  highly  commendable  style  of  ar- 
chitecture which  characterizes  many  of  the  houses 
of  Washington.  I  had  not  yet  made  up  my  mind 
whether  I  should  inquire  for  Mother  Anastasia  or 
"  Miss  Raynor."  I  did  not  know  the  custom  of 
Mother  Superiors  when  traveling  or  visiting,  and 
I  determined,  as  I  ascended  the  steps,  to  be  guided 
in  this  matter  by  the  aspect  of  the  person  who 
opened  the  door. 

It  has  always  been  interesting  to  me  to  study 
the  character,  as  well  as  I  can  do  so  in  the  brief 
opportunity  generally  afforded,  of  the  servants 
who  open  to  me  the  doors  of  houses.  To  a  certain 
degree,  although  of  course  it  does  not  do  to  apply 
this  rule  too  rigidly,  these  persons  indicate  the 
characters  of  the  dwellers  in  the  house.  My 
friends  have  disputed  this  point  with  me,  and  have 
asserted  that  they  do  not  wish  to  be  so  represented, 
but  nevertheless  I  have  frequently  found  my  posi- 
tion correct. 

I  prefer  to  visit  those  houses  whose  door  service 
is  performed  by  a  neat,  good-looking,  intelligent, 
bright-witted,  kindly-tempered,  conscientious,  and 
sympathetic  maidservant.  A  man  is  generally 
very  unsatisfactory.  He  performs  his  duty  in  a 
perfunctory  manner.  His  heart  is  not  in  it.  He 
fears  to  say  a  word  more  than  he  thinks  absolutely 
necessary,  lest  you  should  imagine  him  new  in  ser- 
vice, and  had  not  lost  his  interest  in  answering 
questions. 


THE  MOTHEB  SUPEBIOB.  297 

But  even  if  the  person  you  ask  for  be  not  at 
home,  it  is  sometimes  a  pleasure  to  be  told  so  by 
an  intelligent  maid,  such  as  I  have  mentioned 
above.  One's  subsequent  action  is  frequently  in- 
fluenced by  her  counsel  and  information.  Fre- 
quently she  is  able  to  indicate  to  you  your  true 
relation  with  the  household ;  sometimes  she  assists 
in  establishing  it. 

When  the  door  before  me  opened,  I  saw  a  col- 
ored woman.  I  was  utterly  discomfited.  None  of 
my  rules  applied  to  a  middle-aged  colored  woman, 
who  gazed  upon  me  as  if  she  recognized  me  as  one 
whom  she  carried  in  her  arms  when  an  infant. 
Actuated  by  impulse  only,  I  inquired  for  "Miss 
Eaynor." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  she,  "  you 's  got  to  de  wrong 
house.     Dat  lady  doan'  live  hyar.'* 

"  Well,  then,"  I  asked  quickly,  "  is  there  a  lady 
here  named  Mother  Anastasia  ?  " 

The  woman  showed  thirty-two  perfectly  devel- 
oped teeth. 

"  Oh,  dat 's  she  ?  You  means  de  sister.  She 's 
hyar,  yes,  sah.     Want  to  see  her  ?  " 

I  stated  that  I  certainly  desired  to  see  her. 

"  She  's  gone  out  now,  sah,  an'  dere  's  no  tellin' 
when  dey  '11  git  back.  Dey  ginerally  all  gits  back 
'bout  dark.     Commonly  jist  a  little  arter  dark." 

"  Not  return  before  dark !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  That 
is  bad.  Can  you  give  me  any  idea  where  I  might 
find  Mother  Anastasia?  " 

"  I  'spects  you  kin  fin'  her  mighty  easy.  Mos' 
likely,  she 's  at  de  Patent  Office,  or  at  de  Army 


298  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

and  Navy  Buildin',  or  de  White  House,  or  de 
Treasury,  or  de  Smifsonian,  or  de  Navy  Yard,  or 
de  new  'Servatory,  or  on  de  avenue  shoppin',  or 
gone  to  de  Capitol  to  de  Senate  or  de  House,  one ; 
or  perhaps  she  druv  out  to  Arlin'ton,  or  else  she 's 
gone  to  de  'Gressional  Libr'y.  Mos'  likely  she 's 
at  one  or  de  odder  of  dem  places ;  an'  about  one 
o'clock,  she  an'  Mis'  Gardley  is  mighty  sure  to 
eat  der  luncheon  somewhar,  an'  arter  that  I  reckon 
they  '11  go  to  'bout  four  arternoon  teas.  I  doan' 
know  'xactly  whare  de  teas  '11  be  dis  arternoon,  but 
ye  kin  tell  de  houses  whar  dar  is  a  tea  inside  by 
de  carriages  a-waitin',  —  an'  ef  it  aint  a  tea,  it 's  a 
f un'ral,  —  and  all  yer  's  got  to  do  is  to  go  inside 
an'  see  if  she 's  dar." 

I  could  not  refrain  from  smiling,  but  I  was 
greatly  discouraged.  How  could  I  wait  until  even- 
ing for  the  desired  interview  ? 

"  If  you  is  kin  to  de  sister,"  said  the  woman,  — 
"  an'  I  reckon  you  is,  for  I  see  de  likeness  power- 
ful strong,  —  she  '11  be  mighty  glad  to  see  ye,  sah. 
Want  me  ter  tell  her  ye  '11  come  back  this  evening, 
if  you  doan'  fin'  her  before  dat  ?  " 

I  desired  her  to  give  such  a  message,  and  went 
away  well  pleased  that  the  woman  had  not  asked 
my  name.  It  was  desirable  that  Mother  Ana- 
stasia  should  not  know  who  was  coming  to  caU  on 
her. 

I  am,  as  I  have  said  before,  much  given  to  the 
consideration  of  motives  and  aU  that  sort  of  thing, 
and,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  I  found  myself  won- 
dering why  I  should   have   taken  the  trouble  to 


THE  MOTHER  SUPEEIOB.  299 

walk  through  the  Patent  Office  and  half  a  dozen 
other  public  buildings,  continually  looking  about 
me,  not  at  the  objects  of  interest  therein,  but  at 
the  visitors;  that  is,  if  they  were  ladies.  Why 
this  uneasy  desire  to  find  the  Mother  Superiors 
when,  by  quietly  waiting  until  evening,  I  was  al- 
most certain  to  see  her  ?  But  in  the  midst  of  my 
self-questionings  I  went  on  looking  for  Mother 
Anastasia. 

I  finished  my  long  ramble  by  a  visit  to  the  gal- 
lery of  the  House  of  Representatives.  A  member 
was  making  a  speech  on  a  bill  to  establish  a  na- 
tional medical  college  for  women.  The  speech  and 
the  subject  may  have  interested  some  people,  but  I 
did  not  care  for  either,  and  I  am  afraid  I  was  a  lit- 
tle drowsy.  After  a  time  I  took  a  cab  and  went  to 
my  hotel.  At  all  events,  the  long  day  of  waiting 
was  nearly  over. 

Early  in  the  evening  I  called  again  at  Mrs. 
Gardley's  house,  and  to  my  delight  I  was  informed 
that  the  lady  I  desired  to  see  was  at  home. 

When  Mother  Anastasia  came  into  the  drawing- 
room,  where  I  awaited  her,  she  wore  the  gray  gown 
of  her  sisterhood,  but  no  head  covering.  I  had 
before  discovered  that  a  woman  could  be  beautiful 
in  a  Martha  gown,  but  at  this  moment  the  fact 
asserted  itself  with  peculiar  force.  She  greeted 
me  with  a  smile  and  an  extended  hand. 

*'  You  do  not  seem  surprised  to  see  me,"  I  said. 

"  Why  should  I  be  ?  "  she  answered.  "  I  saw 
you  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  wondered 
why  you  should  doze  when  such  an  interesting 


800  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

matter  was  being  discussed;  and  when  I  came 
home,  and  heard  that  a  gentleman  answering  your 
description  intended  to  call  on  me  this  evening,  I 
declined  to  go  out  to  the  theatre,  wishing  to  be 
here  to  receive  you." 

I  was  disgusted  to  think  that  she  had  caught  me 
napping,  and  that  she  had  been  near  me  in  the 
House  and  I  had  not  known  it,  but  I  said  nothing 
of  this. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  I  remarked,  "  to  give  up 
the  theatre  "  -^ 

"  Oh,  don't  thank  me,"  she  interrupted  ;  "  per- 
haps you  will  not  think  I  am  good.  Before  we 
say  anything  more,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  whether 
or  not  you  came  here  to  talk  about  Sylvia  Ray- 
nor. 

Here  was  a  blunt  question,  but  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  I  believed  that  I  answered  truly  when 
I  said  I  had  not  come  for  that  purpose. 

"Very  good,"  said  Mother  Anastasia,  leaning 
back  in  her  chair.  "  Now  I  can  freely  say  that  I 
am  glad  to  see  you.  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  you 
had  come  to  talk  to  me  on  that  forbidden  subject, 
and  I  must  admit  that  this  fear  had  a  very  power- 
ful influence  in  keeping  me  at  home  this  evening. 
If  you  had  come  to  talk  to  me  of  her,  I  would  have 
had  something  very  important  to  say  to  you,  but  I 
am  delighted  that  my  fears  were  groundless.  And 
now  tell  me  how  you  could  help  being  interested 
in  that  grand  scheme  for  a  woman's  college." 

"  I  have  never  given  it  any  thought.  Do  you 
care  for  it  ?  " 


THE  MOTHER  SUPERIOR.  301 

"  Care  for  it !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  enlisted 
in  the  cause,  hand  and  heart.  I  came  down  here 
because  the  bill  was  to  be  brought  before  the 
House.  If  the  college  is  established,  —  and  I  be- 
lieve it  will  be,  —  I  expect  to  be  one  of  the  fac- 
ulty." 

"You  are  not  a  physician  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh,  I  have  studied  and  practiced  medicine," 
she  answered,  "  and  expect  to  do  a  great  deal  more 
of  it  before  we  begin  operations.  The  physician's 
art  is  my  true  vocation." 

"  And  you  will  leave  the  House  of  Martha  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  The  period  for  which  I 
entered  it  has  nearly  expired.  I  do  not  regret  the 
time  I  have  spent  there,  but  I  must  admit  I  shall 
be  glad  to  leave  the  sisterhood.  That  life  is  too 
narrow  for  me,  and  perhaps  too  shallow.  I  say 
nothing  against  it  in  a  general  way  ;  I  only  speak 
of  it  as  it  relates  to  myself.  The  very  manner  in 
which  I  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  freedom  proves 
to  me  that  I  ought  to  be  free,  and  that  I  did  a 
wise  thing  in  limiting  the  term  of  my  sister- 
hood." 

As  Mother  Anastasia  spoke  there  was  a  glow  of 
earnest  pleasure  upon  her  face.  She  was  truly 
very  happy  to  be  able  to  talk  of  her  approaching 
freedom. 

I  am  a  prudent  man  and  a  cautious  one.  This 
frank  enthusiasm  alarmed  me.  How  deftly  she 
had  put  Sylvia  out  of  sight !  How  skillfully  she 
had  brought  herself  into  full  view,  free  and  un- 


302  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA, 

trammeled  by  vows  and  rules,  —  a  woman  as  other 
women ! 

The  more  I  saw  of  Mother  Anastasia  the  better 
I  liked  her,  but  I  perceived  that  she  was  a  woman 
with  whom  it  was  very  necessary  to  be  cautious. 
She  was  apt,  I  thought,  to  make  convictions  of 
her  presumptions.  If  she  presumed  that  my  love 
for  Sylvia  was  an  utterly  hopeless  affection,  to  be 
given  up  and  forgotten,  I  did  not  like  it.  It  might 
be  that  it  was  hopeless,  but  I  did  not  care  to  have 
any  one  else  settle  the  matter  for  me  in  that  way, 
—  not  even  Mother  Anastasia. 

"  Of  course,"  I  remarked,  "  I  am  glad  that  you 
have  concluded  to  withdraw  from  a  vocation  which 
I  am  sure  is  not  suited  to  you,  and  yet  I  feel  a  lit- 
tle disappointed  to  hear  that  you  will  not  continue 
at  the  head  of  the  House  of  Martha,  for  I  came 
to  Washington  on  purpose  to  make  you  a  proposi- 
tion in  regard  to  that  institution." 

"  Came  to  Washington  on  purpose  to  see  me, 
and  to  make  a  proposition  !  What  can  it  possibly 
be?" 

I  now  laid  before  her,  with  considerable  atten- 
tion to  detail,  my  plan  for  working  in  cooperation 
with  the  House  of  Martha.  I  showed  her  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  scheme  as  they  had  suggested 
themselves  to  me,  and  as  an  example  of  what  could 
be  done  I  mentioned  Sylvia's  fancy  for  typewriting, 
and  demonstrated  how  easily  I  could  undertake 
the  outside  management  of  this  very  lucrative  and 
pleasant  occupation.  I  warmed  up  as  I  talked, 
and  spoke  quite  strongly  about  what  I  —  and  per- 


THE  MOTHER  SUPEBIOB.  303 

haps  in  time  other  men  —  might  do  for  the  benefit 
of  the  sisterhood,  if  my  proposition  were  accepted. 

She  listened  to  me  attentively,  her  face  growing 
paler  and  harder  as  I  proceeded.  When  I  had 
finished  she  said  :  — 

"  It  is  not  at  all  necessary  for  me  to  discuss  this 
utterly  preposterous  scheme,  nor  even  to  refer  to 
it,  except  to  say  that  I  plainly  see  its  object. 
Whatever  you  have  persuaded  yourself  to  think  of 
your  plan,  I  know  that  its  real  object  is  to  rees- 
tablish a  connection  with  Sylvia.  You  would 
know,  if  you  would  allow  yourself  to  think  about 
it,  that  your  absurd  and  even  wicked  scheme  of 
typewriting,  companionship  in  work,  and  all  that 
stuff,  could  only  result  in  making  the  girl  miserable 
and  perhaps  breaking  her  heart.  You  know  that 
she  loves  you,  and  that  it  has  been  a  terrible  trial 
to  her  to  yield  to  her  conscience  and  do  what  she 
has  done  ;  and  you  know,  furthermore,  —  and  this 
more  than  anything  else  darkens  your  intention,  — 
that  Sylvia's  artless,  ingenuous,  and  impulsive 
nature  would  give  you  advantages  which  would 
not  be  afforded  to  you  by  one  who  did  not  love 
you,  and  who  better  understood  the  world  and 
you." 

"  Madam,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  do  me  an  injus- 
tice ! " 

She  paid  no  attention  to  this  remark,  and  pro- 
ceeded :  "  And  now  let  me  tell  you  that  what  you 
have  said  to  me  to-night  has  changed  my  plans, 
my  life.  I  shall  not  leave  Sylvia  exposed  to  your 
cruel  attacks,  —  attacks  which  I  believe  will  come 


304  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

in  every  practical  form  that  your  ingenuity  can  de- 
vise. It  was  my  example  that  brought  that  girl 
into  the  House  of  Martha,  and  now  that  she  has 
vowed  to  devote  her  life  and  her  work  to  its  ser- 
vice I  shall  not  desert  her.  I  will  not  have  her 
pure  purpose  shaken  and  weakened,  little  by  little, 
day  by  day,  until  it  falls  listless  and  deadened, 
with  nothing  to  take  its  place.  Therefore,  until  I 
know  that  you  are  no  longer  a  source  of  danger  to 
her,  I  shall  remain  Mother  Superior  of  the  House 
of  Martha,  and  rest  assured  that  while  I  am  in 
that  position  Sylvia  shall  be  safe  from  you."  And 
with  that  she  rose  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 


XLIII. 

WAS  HIS   HEART  TRUE  TO  POLL? 

Never  before  had  any  one  spoken  to  me  as  Mo- 
ther Anastasia  had  just  spoken.  Never  before  had 
I  felt  as  I  felt  in  leaving  the  house  where  she  had 
spoken  to  me.  I  did  not  admit  all  that  she  had 
said ;  and  yet  not  even  to  myself  could  I  gainsay 
her  statements.  I  was  not  convinced  that  I  had 
been  wrong,  but  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  she 
was  right.  I  was  angry,  I  was  mortified,  I  was 
grieved.  The  world  seemed  cold  and  dark,  and 
the  coldest  and  darkest  thing  in  it  was  the  figure 
of  Mother  Anastasia,  as  she  rose  to  leave  me. 

When  I  reached  New  York,  I  bethought  myself 
of  my  promise  to  Miss  Laniston.  It  tortured  my 
soul  to  think  of  what  had  happened ;  I  knew  it 
would  torture  it  still  more  to  talk  of  these  things. 
But  I  am  a  man  who  keeps  his  promises ;  besides, 
I  wanted  to  see  Miss  Laniston.  I  did  not  like  her 
very  much,  but  the  people  whom  I  did  like  seemed 
to  be  falling  away  from  me,  and  she  was  a  woman 
of  vigorous  spirit,  to  whom  one  in  my  plight  would 
naturally  turn.  That  she  could  give  me  any  en- 
couragement was  not  likely,  but  she  might  offer 
me  an  enheartening  sympathy ;  and,  moreover,  she 
was  well  acquainted  with  Mother  Anastasia,  and 


306  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

there  were  a  good  many  questions  I  wanted  to  ask 
about  that  lady. 

I  found  Miss  Laniston  at  home,  but  I  was 
obliged  to  wait  a  good  while  before  she  made  her 
appearance. 

"  If  you  were  any  other  man  in  this  world,"  she 
said,  "  I  should  have  felt  obliged  to  excuse  myself 
from  seeing  you,  for  I  am  engaged  on  most  im- 
portant business  with  a  modiste  who  is  designing 
a  gown  for  me ;  but  I  am  perfectly  wild  to  hear 
about  your  interview  with  Mother  Anastasia,  and 
I  was  afraid,  if  I  sent  you  away,  that  you  would 
not  come  back  again ;  so  tell  me  about  it,  I  pray 
you.  I  know  you  have  seen  her,  for  you  look  so 
uncommonly  glum.  I  am  afraid  that  you  have 
not  yet  become  a  brother  of  the  House  of  Martha." 

There  was  nothing  inspiring  about  this  badinage, 
but  I  braced  myself  to  the  work,  and  told  her  what 
had  happened  in  Washington. 

"  This  is  truly  dreadful,"  she  declared.  "  Of 
course  I  had  no  idea  that  Mother  Anastasia  would 
consider  your  plan  as  anything  more  than  the  wild 
outreachings  of  a  baffled  lover,  but  I  did  not  ima- 
gine that  she  would  take  it  in  this  way.  This  is 
very  bad." 

"  It  is,"  I  answered.  "  Everything  is  knocked 
from  under  me." 

"  Oh,  bless  you,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  was  n't  think- 
ing of  you,  but  of  Mother  Anastasia.  It  was  the 
happiest  news  I  can  remember  when  I  heard  that 
she  was  soon  to  drop  that  name  and  all  that  be- 
longed to  it,  and  to  begin  a  life  in  which  she  would 


WAS  HIS  HEART  TRUE  TO  POLL?        307 

be  a  woman  among  her  peers,  no  matter  with  what 
sex  they  happen  to  be  classed.  But  if  she  stops 
short  and  remains  in  that  miserable  House  of 
Martha,  the  result  is  bound  to  be  disastrous.  If 
she  believes  it  is  necessary  to  spend  her  life  in  pro- 
tecting Sylvia  from  your  assaults,  she  is  the  woman 
to  spend  her  life  in  that  way." 

"  What  her  friends  should  do,"  said  I,  "  is  to 
convince  her  that  it  is  not  necessary." 

Miss  Laniston  gazed  upon  me  fixedly.  "  You 
think  it  would  be  a  great  pity  for  a  beautiful  wo- 
man —  a  remarkably  fine  woman  like  Mother  An- 
astasia  —  to  hide  herself  away  in  that  make-believe 
convent  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  I  answered,  with  animation. 

"  And  since  one  fine  woman  is  shut  up  for  life 
in  that  prison,  you  think  it  a  shame  that  another 
one  should  remain  within  its  walls  ?  " 

I  assented  warmly. 

"  Now,  then,"  remarked  Miss  Laniston,  rising, 
"  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  go  to  the 
Frenchwoman,  who,  I  know,  is  fuming  for  me,  and 
whose  time  is  very  precious.  I  shall  be  with  you 
again  in  about  twenty  minutes,  and  during  that 
time  I  wish  you  would  make  up  your  mind  with 
whom  you  are  in  love,  —  Mother  Anastasia  or 
Sylvia  Eaynor.  When  that  point  is  settled,  we 
will  see  what  can  be  done." 

It  was  a  man  of  a  bewildered  mind  who  was  left 
alone  in  that  drawing-room.  I  did  not  understand 
what  had  been  said  to  me,  but  now  that  ideas  of 
this  kind  had  been  put  into  words,  there  seemed 


308  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

to  be  a  certain  familiarity  about  them.  How 
dared  sbe  speak  to  me  in  that  way  ?  What  ground 
had  she  for  such  words? 

And  yet  —  Sylvia  was  shut  up  for  life  in  the 
House  of  Martha.     I  could  not  gainsay  that. 

I  could  not  put  my  thoughts  into  form,  and  with 
my  mind  in  chaos  I  strode  up  and  down  the  room 
until  Miss  Laniston  returned. 

"  What  an  uneasy  person  you  are !  "  she  said. 
"  Have  you  settled  that  little  point?  " 
"  Settled  it !  '  There  is  nothing  to  settle." 
She  laughed.  "  I  am  not  so  sure  about  that. 
I  thought  I  saw  a  change  in  the  wind  when  you 
were  here  last,  and  it  is  natural  enough  that  it 
should  change.  What  is  the  good  of  its  blowing 
steadfastly  from  the  north,  when  the  north  is  no- 
thing but  ice  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  talk  in  that  way  !  "  I  ex- 
claimed angrily.  "  I  utterly  repudiate  your  suppo- 
sition." 

"  Come,  come,"  she  said,  "  let  us  be  practical. 
I  really  take  an  interest  in  you,  you  know,  and  be- 
sides that,  I  take  an  interest  in  my  friends  ;  and  it 
is  quite  plain  to  me  that  you  must  not  be  allowed 
to  wander  about  in  a  detached  way,  making  all 
sorts  of  trouble.  You  have  made  a  good  deal  al- 
ready. So  if  we  must  consider  Sylvia  Eaynor  as 
really  out  of  the  race,  on  account  of  being  tied  up 
by  her  sisterhood  obligations,  we  must  turn  our  at- 
tention to  Mother  Anastasia,  who  probably  has  not 
yet  done  anything  definite  in  regard  to  retaining 
her  position  in  the  House  of  Martha.     If  anything 


WAS  HIS  HEART  TRUE  TO  POLL?        309 

can  be  done  in  this  direction,  it  will  be  entirely- 
satisfactory,  because,  if  you  get  the  ex-Mother  Su- 
perior, of  course  you  will  be  content  to  leave  the 
young  sister  alone." 

"  Madam,  you  insult  me ! "  I  cried,  springing  to 
my  feet. 

"By  which,  I  suppose,"  she  answered,  "you 
wish  me  to  understand  that  your  heart  is  true  to 
Poll,  —  by  Poll  meaning  Sylvia  Raynor." 

"  You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do,"  I  replied.  "  I 
have  taken  you  into  my  confidence;  I  have  told 
you  that  I  loved  her,  that  I  should  always  love 
her  ;  and  it  is  unwomanly  in  you  "  — 

"  That  wiU  do,"  she  interrupted,  —  "  that  will 
do ;  don't  say  hard  words  to  one  of  your  best 
friends.  If  you  will  continue  to  be  true  to  Poll, 
not  as  the  sailor  was  in  the  song,  but  constant  and 
steadfast  in  all  sorts  of  weather,  and  without  any 
regard  to  that  mere  material  point  of  eventually 
getting  her  for  your  own,  why  then  I  am  your  fast 
friend  to  the  end,  and  will  do  everything  that  I 
can  to  soften  your  woes  and  lighten  your  pathway ; 
and  all  the  reward  I  desire  for  my  labors  is  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  that  there  is  at  least  one  man 
in  the  world  who  can  love  truly  and  unchangeably 
without  seeing  any  chance  ahead  of  him  of  winning 
the  woman  he  loves.  Do  you  think  you  can  fill 
that  position  ?  " 

I  looked  at  her  sternly,  and  answered  :  "  I  have 
said  all  upon  that  point  that  is  necessary  to  say. 
When  I  love  a  woman,  I  love  her  forever." 

"  Very    good,"   said    Miss    Laniston,  — "  very 


310  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

good  ;  and  I  dare  say  your  little  side  flights  did  n't 
mean  anything  at  all.  And  now  I  shall  talk  with 
Mother  Anastasia  as  soon  as  possible,  and  make 
her  understand  that  she  has  no  right  to  sacrifice 
herself  to  Sylvia  or  any  one  else.  If  I  can  get  her 
started  off  on  the  right  road,  I  will  see  what  I  can 
do  with  the  new  Mother  Superior,  whoever  she 
may  be.  Perhaps  you  may  yet  be  able  to  estab- 
lish that  delightful  brotherhood  of  the  House  of 
Martha.  Any  way,  I  promise  you  you  shall  have 
something.  It'  may  not  be  much  and  it  may  not 
be  often,  but  it  shall  be  enough  to  keep  your  love 
alive,  and  that,  you  see,  is  my  great  object.  I 
want  to  make  of  you  a  monument  of  masculine 
constancy." 

As  I  took  leave  of  her,  Miss  Laniston  gave  my 
hand  a  vigorous  pressure,  which  seemed  to  me  to 
indicate  that  her  intentions  were  better  than  her 
words.  As  I  went  away  my  mind  was  quieter, 
though  not  cheered.  There  was  in  it  a  certain 
void  and  emptiness,  but  this  was  compensated  for 
by  a  sense  of  seK-approbation  which  was  strength- 
ening and  comforting.  I  was  even  able  to  smile  at 
the  notion  of  the  interview  between  Miss  Laniston 
and  Sister  Sarah,  when  the  former  should  propose 
my  plan  of  the  brotherhood. 


XLIV. 

PRELIMINARY  BROTHERHOOD. 

When  I  returned  to  Arden,  I  gave  Walkirk  an 
outline  of  what  had  occurred,  but  I  did  not  go  into 
details,  having  no  desire  that  the  preposterous  idea 
which  had  gotten  into  the  head  of  Miss  Laniston 
should  enter  that  of  my  under-study.  Walkirk 
was  not  in  good  spirits. 

"  I  had  hoped  something,"  he  said,  "  from  your 
interview  with  Mother  Anastasia,  though  perhaps 
not  exactly  in  the  line  of  a  brotherhood.  I  thought 
if  she  came  to  thoroughly  understand  your  earnest- 
ness in  the  matter,  she  might  use  her  influence 
with  Miss  Raynor,  which  at  some  time  or  other,  or 
in  some  way  or  other,  might  result  to  your  advan- 
tage, and  that  of  the  young  lady.  I  had  and  stiH 
have  great  belief  in  the  capabilities  of  Mother 
Anastasia,  but  now  I  am  forced  to  believe,  very 
much  against  my  will,  that  there  is  no  hope  ahead. 
With  Mother  Anastasia  decidedly  against  us,  the 
fight  is  lost." 

"  Us,"  I  repeated. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  am  with  you,  soul 
and  body." 

Without  a  word  I  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
pressed  it  warmly. 


312  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  continuing  your  recitals 
of  travel  ?  "  Walkirk  said  to  me  later  in  the  day. 
"  I  should  think  they  would  interest  you,  and  I 
know  they  were  vastly  interesting  to  me.  You 
must  have  a  great  deal  more  to  tell." 

"  I  have,"  I  answered,  "  but  I  shall  not  tell  it 
now.  Instead  of  talking  about  travels,  I  have  de- 
termined to  travel.  At  present  it  is  awkward  for 
me  to  remain  here.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to 
feel  independent,  and  able  to  do  what  I  please,  and 
know  that  th^re  are  persons  in  the  village  who  do 
not  wish  to  meet  me,  and  with  whom  it  would  be 
embarrassing  and  perhaps  unpleasant  to  meet.  I 
know  I  must  meet  them  some  time  or  other,  unless 
they  shut  themselves  up,  or  I  shut  myself  up. 
That  sort  of  thing  I  cannot  endure,  and  I  shall  go 
to  Turkey  and  Egypt.  Those  countries  I  have 
not  visited.  If  it  suits  you,  I  shall  take  you  with 
me,  and  I  shall  also  take  a  stenographer,  to  whom 
.1  shall  dictate,  on  the  spot,  the  materials  for  my 
book." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  asked  Walkirk,  "  that  you  will 
dispense  altogether  with  that  preparatory  narration 
to  me  of  what  you  intend  afterwards  to  put  into 
your  book?  I  consider  that  a  capital  plan,  and  I 
think  you  found  it  of  advantage." 

"  That  is  true,"  I  answered ;  "  the  plan  worked 
admirably.  I  did  not  propose  to  work  in  that  way 
again,  but  I  will  do  it.  Every  night  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  have  done,  and  what  I  think  about 
things,  and  the  next  morning  I  '11  dictate  that  ma- 
terial, revised   and   shapen,  to  the   stenograj^her, 


PRELIMINARY  BBOTHEBHOOD.  313 

who  can  then  have  the  rest  of  the  day  to  write  it 
out  properly." 

"  A  capital  plan,"  said  "Walkirk,  "  and  I  shall 
be  charmed  to  go  with  you." 

I  was  indeed  very  anxious  to  leave  Arden.  I 
could  not  believe  that  Mother  Anastasia  had  ever 
imagined  any  of  the  stuff  that  Miss  Laniston  had 
talked  about,  but  she  certainly  had  shown  me  that 
she  was  greatly  offended  with  me,  and  nothing 
offends  me  so  much  as  to  have  people  offended 
with  me.     Such  persons  I  do  not  wish  to  meet. 

I  did  not  immediately  fix  a  date  for  my  depar- 
ture, for  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  consider  my 
grandmother's  feelings  and  welfare,  and  arrange 
to  make  her  as  happy  as  possible  while  I  should  be 
gone.  In  the  mean  time,  it  was  of  course  necessary 
that  I  should  take  air  and  exercise ;  and  while  doing 
this  one  morning  in  a  pretty  lane,  just  out  of  the 
village,  a  figure  in  the  House  of  Martha  gray  came 
into  sight  a  little  distance  ahead  of  me.  Her  back 
was  toward  me,  and  she  was  walking  slower  than 
I  was.  "  Now,  then,"  thought  I,  "  here  is  a  proof 
of  the  awkwardness  of  my  position  here.  Even 
in  a  little  walk  like  this,  I  must  run  up  against  one 
of  those  sisters.  I  must  pass  her,  or  turn  around 
and  go  back,  for  I  shall  not  slow  up,  and  appear 
to  be  dogging  her  footsteps.  But  I  shall  not  turn 
back,  —  that  does  not  suit  me."  Consequently  I 
walked  on,  and  soon  overtook  the  woman  in  gray. 
She  did  not  turn  her  head  as  I  approached,  for  the 
sisters  are  taught  not  to  turn  their  heads  to  look 
at  people.     After  all,  it  would  be  easy  enough  for 


314  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

me  to  adopt  the  same  rule,  and  to  pass  her  without 
turning  my  head,  or  paying  the  slightest  attention 
to  her.  This  was  the  manner  indeed  in  which  the 
general  public  was  expected  to  act  toward  the  in= 
mates  of  the  House  of  Martha  when  met  outside 
their  institution. 

When  I  came  up  with  her,  I  turned  and  looked 
into  the  bonnet.  It  was  Sylvia.  As  my  eyes  fell 
upon  the  face  of  that  startled  angel,  my  impulse 
was  to  throw  my  arms  around  her,  and  rush  away 
with  her,  gray,  bonnet,  shawl  and  all,  to  some  dis- 
tant clime  where  there  were  no  Houses  of  Martha, 
Mother  Anastasias,  or  anything  which  could  sepa- 
rate my  dear  love  and  me ;  but  I  crushed  down  this 
mad  fancy,  smothered,  as  well  as  I  could,  my  wild 
emotions,  and  said,  as  calmly  as  possible,  — 

"  Good  morning,  sister." 

Over  the  quick  flushes  of  her  face  there  spread 
a  smile  of  pleasure. 

"  I  like  that,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  glad  to  have  you 
call  me  sister.  I  thought  you  would  be  prejudiced 
against  it,  and  would  not  do  it." 

"  Prejudiced  !  "  I  said ;  "  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  am 
delighted  to  do  so." 

"  That  is  really  good  of  you,"  she  said ;  "  and 
how  have  you  been  ?  You  look  a  little  wan  and 
tired.     Have  you  been  doing  your  own  writing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said ;  "  I  have  given  up  writing,  at 
least  for  the  present.  I  wish  I  could  make  you 
understand  how  glad  I  am  to  call  you  sister,  and 
how  it  would  joy  my  heart  if  you  would  call  me 
brother." 


PBELIMINARY  BBOTHEBHOOD.  315 

"  Oh,  that  would  not  do  at  all,"  she  said,  in  a 
tone  which  indicated  surprise  at  my  ignorance; 
"  that  would  be  quite  a  different  thing.  I  am  a 
sister  to  everybody,  but  you  are  not  a  brother  to 
anybody." 

"  When  you  hear  what  I  have  to  say  about  this," 
I  answered,  "  you  will  understand  what  I  mean  by 
wishing  to  be  called  brother.  May  I  ask  where 
you  are  going?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  visit  a  sick  person  in  that  little 
house  at  the  bottom  of  the  hiU.  Sister  Agatha 
came  with  me,  but  she  had  the  toothache,  and  had 
to  go  back.  I  expect  Sister  Sarah  will  send  some 
one  of  the  others  to  join  me,  for  she  always  wants 
us  to  go  about  in  couples." 

"  She  is  entirely  right,"  said  I ;  "  I  did  not  know 
she  had  so  much  sense,  and  I  shall  make  one  of  the 
couple  this  time.  You  ought  not  to  be  walking 
about  here  by  yourself." 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  gone  back  with 
Sister  Agatha,"  said  she,  "  but  I  did  n't  want  to. 
I  'm  dreadfully  tired  of  staying  in  the  House  of 
Martha,  trying  to  learn  typewriting.  I  can  do  it 
pretty  well  now,  but  nothing  has  come  of  it.  Sis- 
ter Sarah  got  me  one  piece  of  work,  which  was  to 
copy  a  lot  of  bad  manuscript  about  local  option. 
I  am  sure,  if  I  am  to  do  that  sort  of  thing  I  shall 
not  like  typewriting." 

"  You  shall  not  do  that  sort  of  thing,"  said  I ; 
"  and  now  let  us  walk  on  slowly,  while  I  tell  you 
what  I  meant  by  the  term  brother."  I  was  in  a 
whirl  of  delight.     Now  I  would  taliv  to  one  who  I 


316  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

believed  would  sympathize  with  my  every  thought, 
who  would  be  in  harmony  with  my  outreachings, 
if  she  could  do  no  more,  and  from  whom  I  need 
expect  neither  ridicule  nor  revilings.  We  walked 
on  slowly,  and  I  laid  before  her  my  scheme  for  the 
brotherhood  of  the  House  of  Martha. 

I  was  not  mistaken  in  my  anticipation  of  Sylvia's 
sympathy.  She  listened  with  sparkling  eyes,  and 
when  I  finished,  clapped  her  hands  with  delight. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  best  plans  that  was  ever 
heard  of  in  this^  world,"  she  said.  "  How  different 
it  would  make  our  life  at  the  institution!  Of 
course  the  brothers  wouldn't  live  there,  but  we 
should  see  each  other,  like  ordinary  people  in  so- 
ciety, and  everything  would  not  be  so  dreadfully 
blank,  and  there  is  no  end  to  the  things  which  you 
could  do,  which  we  cannot  do,  unless  with  a  great 
deal  of  trouble.  The  usefulness  of  your  plan 
seems  to  have  no  limits  at  all.  How  many  brothers 
do  you  think  we  ought  to  have  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  considered  that  point,'*  I  said;  "at 
present  I. know  of  but  one  person,  besides  myself, 
who  would  have  the  necessary  qualifications  for  the 
position." 

"  I  expect,"  she  said,  looking  at  me  with  a 
twinkle  of  fun  in  her  eye,  "  that  if  you  had  the 
selection  of  the  other  brothers  they  would  be  a 
tame  lot." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  I  said,  and  we  both 
broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you,"  said  Sylvia,  "  how 
much  I  am  charmed  with  your  idea  of  the  brother- 


PBELIMINARY  BBOTHEBHOOD.  317 

hood.  I  have  n't  enjoyed  myself  so  much  for  ever 
so  long." 

We  were  now  nearing  the  little  house  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill.     An  idea  struck  me. 

"  Who  is  it  that  you  are  going  to  visit  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  It  is  an  old  man,"  she  said,  "  who  has  the 
rheumatism  so  badly  that  he  cannot  move.  He 
has  to  take  his  medicine  every  hour,  and  his  wife 
is  worn  out  sitting  up  and  giving  it  to  him,  and 
Sister  Agatha  and  I  were  sent  to  take  care  of  him 
during  the  morning,  and  let  the  poor  old  woman 
get  some  sleep." 

"  Very  good,"  said  I,  "  here  is  a  chance  for  me 
to  make  a  beginning  in  my  scheme  of  brotherhood, 
and  that  without  asking  leave  or  license  of  any- 
body. I  wiU  go  in  with  you,  and  help  you  nurse 
the  old  man." 

"  I  expect  you  can  do  it  splendidly,"  said 
Sylvia,  "  and  now  we  can  see  how  a  brotherhood 
woiUd  work." 

We  entered  a  little  house,  which  apparently  had 
once  been  a  good  enough  home  for  humble  dwell- 
ers, but  which  now  showed  signs  of  extreme  pov- 
erty. A  man  with  gray  hair,  and  placid,  pale  face, 
was  lying  on  a  bed  in  one  corner  of  the  room  into 
which  the  door  opened,  and  in  a  chair  near  by  sat 
an  old  woman,  her  head  bobbing  in  an  uneasy  nap. 
She  roused  when  we  entered,  and  seemed  glad  to 
see  us. 

"  He  's  about  the  same  as  he  was,"  she  said, 
"  an'  as  he 's  loike  to  be  width  thim  little  draps  of 


318  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

midicine ;  but  if  you  're  a  docther,  sir,  it  ain't  for 
me  to  be  meddlin',  an'  sayin'  that  one  of  thim 
Pepper  Pod  Plasters  width  howles  in  it  would  do 
more  good  to  his  poor  back  than  thim  draps  inside 
of  him." 

"  Rheumatism  is  not  treated  externally  so  much 
as  it  used  to  be,"  I  said.  "  You  will  find  that  in- 
ternal medication  will  be  of  much  more  service  in 
the  long  run." 

"  That  may  be,  sir,"  said  she  ;  "  but  it  won't  do 
to  make  the  run  too  long,  considtherin'  he  has  n't 
been  able  to  do  a  sthroke  of  work  for  four  weeks, 
an'  if  ye'd  ever  tried  one  of  thim  plasters,  sir, 
ye'd  know  they's  as  warmin'  as  sandpaper  an' 
salt ;  but  if  I  kin  git  a  little  slape,  it  will  be  better 
for  me  than  any  midicine,  inside  or  out." 

"  That 's  what  we  came  to  give  you,"  said  Sylvia ; 
"  go  into  the  other  room,  and  lie  down,  and  you 
shall  not  be  called  until  it  is  time  for  your  dinner." 

The  woman  gave  a  little  shrug,  which  I  imagine 
was  intended  to  indicate  that  dinner  and  dinner- 
time had  not  much  relation  to  each  other  in  this 
house,  and  going  into  an  adjoining  room,  was  prob- 
ably soon  fast  asleep. 

"  It  would  be  better  to  begin  by  giving  him  his 
medicine.  I  know  all  about  it,  for  I  was  here 
yesterday.  I  forgot  to  ask  his  wife  when  she  gave 
it  to  him  last,"  said  Sylvia,  "  but  we  might  as  well 
begin  fresh  at  the  half-pasts." 

She  poured  out  a  teaspoonful  of  the  stuff,  and 
administered  it  to  the  old  man,  who  opened  his 
mouth,  and  took  it  placidly. 


PRELIMINARY  BROTHERHOOD.  319 

"  He  is  very  quiet  and  very  patient,"  said  Sylvia 
to  me  in  an  undertone,  —  and  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  describe  how  delightful  it  was  to  have  her 
speak  to  me  in  such  a  confidential  undertone, — 
'•'  he  does  n't  talk  any,"  she  continued,  "  and  does 
n't  seem  to  care  to  have  anybody  read  to  him, 
for  when  Sister  Agatha  tried  that  yesterday,  he 
went  to  sleep ;  but  he  likes  his  brow  bathed,  and  I 
can  sit  on  this  side  of  his  bed  and  do  that,  and  you 
can  find  a  chair  and  sit  on  the  other  side,  and  tell 
me  more  about  your  plan  of  brotherhood." 

There  was  no  other  chair,  but  I  found  a  box,  on 
which  I  seated  myself  on  the  other  side  of  the  old 
man's  cot,  while  Sylvia,  taking  a  bottle  from  her 
pocket,  proceeded  to  dampen  the  forehead  of  the 
patient  with  its  pleasantly  scented  contents. 

I  did  not  much  like  to  see  her  doing  this,  nor 
did  I  care  to  discuss  our  projects  over  the  body  of 
this  rheumatic  laborer. 

"  It  strikes  me,"  I  said,  "  that  it  would  be  a 
good  idea  to  put  on  that  bay  rum,  or  cologne,  or 
whatever  it  is,  with  a  clean  paint-brush,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  Don't  you  dislike  using  your 
fingers?  " 

Sylvia  laughed.  "  You  have  lots  to  learn  yet," 
she  said,  "  before  you  can  be  a  brother ;  and  now 
tell  me  what  particular  kind  of  work  you  think 
the  brothers  would  do.  I  hardly  think  nursing 
would  suit  them  very  well." 

I  did  not  immediately  answer,  and  Sylvia's  quick 
mind  divined  the  reason  of  my  reluctance. 

"  Let  us  talk  en  frangais^'^  she  said ;  "  that  will 


320  TEE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

not  disturb  this  good  man,  and  he  can  go  to  sleep 
if  he  likes." 

"  Tres  hien,^^  I  said,  '^ parlous  nous  en  fraih- 
gais.^^ 

''II  serait  charmant"  said  she ;  ''faime  la  belle 
langue.^^  ^ 

The  old  man  turned  his  head  from  one  to  the 
other  of  us ;  all  his  placidity  vanished,  and  he  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  del!  VoUa  les  anges  Vun  et  V autre  qui 
vient  parler  ma  chere  langue^ 

"  Good  gracious !  "  exclaimed  Sylvia,  "  I  thought 
he  was  Irish." 

The  patient  now  took  the  talking  business  into 
his  own  hands,  and  in  his  dear  language  told  us 
his  tale  of  woe.  It  was  a  very  ordinary  tale,  and 
its  dolefulness  was  relieved  by  the  old  man's  de- 
light at  finding  people  who  could  talk  to  him  like 
Christians.  One  of  his  woes  was  that  he  had  not 
been  long  enough  married  to  his  wife  to  teach  her 
much  French. 

"  I  wish,"  interpolated  Sylvia  to  me,  "  that  we 
had  kept  on  in  English.  It  would  have  been  much 
more  satisfactory.  I  expect  one  of  the  other  sis- 
ters will  be  here  before  very  long,  and  before  she 
comes  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  how  you  are  get- 
ting on  with  your  book.  I  have  been  thinking 
about  it,  ever  and  ever  so  much." 

"  I  am  not  getting  on  at  all,"  said  I;  "  without 
you  there  will  be  no  book." 

At  this  Sylvia  knit  her  brows  a  little,  and  looked 
disturbed. 


PRELIMINARY  BROTHERHOOD.  321 

"  That  is  not  a  good  way  to  talk  about  it,"  she 
said,  "  unless,  indeed,  the  book  could  be  made  a 
part  of  the  brotherhood  work,  in  some  way.  The 
publisher  might  want  a  typewritten  copy,  and  if 
I  should  make  it,  I  should  know  the  end  of  the 
story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla.  You  know  I  had 
almost  given  up  ever  knowing  what  finally  hap- 
pened to  those  two." 

"  You  shall  know  it,"  said  I ;  "we  shall  work 
together  yet.  I  can  think  of  a  dozen  ways  in 
which  we  can  do  it,  and  I  intend  to  prove  that  my 
brotherhood  idea  is  thoroughly  practicable." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Sylvia ;  "  is  n't  this  prac- 
tical ?  "  and  she  bedewed  the  patient's  brow  so  lib- 
erally, that  some  of  the  perfume  ran  into  his  eyes, 
and  made  him  wink  vigorously. 

"  Merci,  mademoiselle,^*  said  he,  "  mais  pas 
heaucoup,  mais  pas  heaucoup  /  " 

"  A  capital  practical  idea  has  just  occurred  to 
me,"  I  said  ;  "  do  you  think  you  shall  be  here  to- 
morrow ?  " 

"  I  expect  to  come  here,"  she  answered,  "  for  1 
take  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  this  old  man.  Mo- 
ther Anastasia  is  still  away,  and  I  expect  that  Sis- 
ter Sarah  will  send  me  again,  for  this  is  the  kind 
of  work  she  believes  in.  She  has  a  very  poor 
opinion  of  typewriting ;  but,  of  course,  a  sister 
will  come  with  me." 

"  There  is  one  coming  to  join  you  now,"  I  said  ; 
"  I  see  her  gray  figure  on  the  top  of  the  hill.  As 
she  will  not  understand  matters,  and  as  I  do  not 
wish  to  talk  any  more  about  my  plans,  until  I  am 


322  THE  HOUSE  OJP"  MARTHA. 

better  able  to  show  how  they  will  work,  I  think  it 
will  be  well  for  me  to  retire ;  but  I  shall  be  here 
to-morrow  morning,  and  it  would  suit  my  plans 
very  well  if  another  sister  comes  with  you." 

Sylvia  looked  around  at  the  approaching  gray 
figure. 

"  I  think  that  is  Sister  Lydia,"  she  said,  "  at 
least,  I  think  I  recognize  her  walk,  and  so  it  might 
be  well  for  you  to  go.  If  it  were  Sister  Agatha  it 
would  n't  matter  so  much.  Of  course,  when  your 
plan  is  all  explained  and  agreed  to,  it  will  not 
make  any  difference  who  comes  or  goes." 

"  Very  true,"  said  I,  "  and  now  I  think  I  will 
bid  you  good-morning.  Be  sure  and  be  here  to- 
morrow." 

She  shook  hands  with  me,  across  the  prostrate 
form  of  the  rheumatic  Frenchman,  who  smiled, 
and  murmured,  "  Bien,  hien,  mes  anges,^^  and  she 
assured  me  that  I  might  expect  her  on  the  morrow. 


XLV. 

I  MAKE  COFFEE  AND  GET  INTO  HOT  WATEE. 

I  DO  not  like  to  do  anything  which  looks  in  the 
least  underhanded,  but  I  must  admit  that  I  left 
that  wretched  cottage  by  the  back  door,  and  taking 
a  path  through  some  woods,  made  a  wide  circuit 
before  returning  to  the  viUage. 

As  soon  as  I  reached  my  house,  I  called  Wal- 
kirk  from  his  writing,  and  rapidly  gave  him  in- 
structions in  regard  to  the  execution  of  an  idea 
which  had  come  into  my  mind  during  my  brother- 
hood labors  of  the  morning. 

I  told  him  to  hasten  to  the  scene  of  my  building 
operations,  and  to  take  away  all  the  carpenters, 
painters,  and  plasterers  he  could  crowd  into  a  two- 
horse  wagon,  and  to  go  with  them  to  the  house 
of  the  rheumatic  Frenchman,  from  which  I  knew 
the  sisters  would  have  departed  before  he  reached 
it.  I  promised  to  join  him  there,  and  at  the  same 
time  that  he  set  out  on  his  errand,  I  hurried  to  a 
shop  in  the  viUage,  the  owner  of  which  combined 
the  occupations  of  cabinet  maker  and  undertaker, 
and  who  generally  kept  on  hand  a  small  stock  of 
cheap  furniture.  From  this  I  selected  such  arti- 
cles as  I  thought  would  be  suitable  or  useful  in  a 
small  house,  which  at  present  contained  nothing 


324  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

too  good  for  a  bonfire,  and  ordered  them  sent  im- 
mediately to  the  Frenchman's  cottage. 

I  reached  this  wretched  little  house  a  few  min- 
utes before  the  arrival  of  Walkirk  and  the  wagon- 
load  of  mechanics.  My  under-study  had  entered 
heartily  into  my  scheme,  and  by  his  directions  the 
men  had  brought  with  them  everything  needed  to 
carry  out  my  plans,  and  in  a  very  short  time  he 
and  I  had  set  every  man  to  work. 

There  were  carpenters,  plasterers,  painters,  pa- 
per-hangers, and  a  tinner  and  glazier,  and  when 
they  learned  that  I  wanted  that  little  house  com- 
pletely renovated  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon, 
they  looked  upon  the  business  as  a  lark,  and  en- 
tered into  it  with  great  spirit.  The  astonished 
woman  of  the  house  did  not  understand  what  was 
about  to  happen,  and  even  when  I  had  explained 
it  to  her,  her  mind  seemed  to  take  in  nothing  ex- 
cept the  fact  that  the  house  ought  to  be  cleaned 
before  the  painting  and  paper-hanging  began,  but 
there  was  no  time  for  delays  of  this  sort,  and  the 
work  went  on  merrily. 

When  the  furniture  arrived,  the  woman  gave  a 
gasp,  for  the  last  time  the  vehicle  which  brought 
them  to  her  house  had  been  there,  it  had  taken 
away  her  previous  husband.  But  a  bureau  and 
table  and  a  roll  of  carpet  assured  her  of  its  differ- 
ent purpose,  and  she  turned  in  with  a  will  to  assist 
in  arranging  these  articles. 

Before  dark  the  work  was  all  done.  The  rheu- 
matic Frenchman  was  lying  on  a  shining  new  bed- 
stead, a  box  of  Pepper  Pod  Plasters  had   been 


I  GET  INTO  HOT  WATER.  325 

placed  in  the  hands  of  his  delighted  wife,  a  grocery- 
wagon  had  deposited  a  load  of  goods  in  the  kitchen, 
the  mechanics  in  gay  spirits  had  driven  away, 
and  Walkirk  and  I,  tired,  but  triumphant,  walked 
home,  leaving  behind  us  a  magical  transformation, 
a  pervadiug  smell  of  paint  and  damp  wall-paper, 
and  an  aged  couple  as  much  dazed  as  delighted 
with  what  had  happened. 

Soon  after  breakfast  the  next  day,  I  repaired  to 
the  bright  and  tidy  little  cottage,  and  there  I  had 
my  reward.  Standing  near  the  house  a  little  in 
the  shadow  of  a  good  sized  evergreen-tree,  which 
I  had  ordered  transplanted  bodily  from  the  woods 
into  the  little  yard,  I  beheld  Sylvia  approaching, 
and  with  her  a  sister  with  a  bandaged  face  whom  I 
rightly  supposed  to  be  the  amiable  Sister  Agatha. 

When  the  two  came  within  a  moderate  distance 
of  the  cottage  they  stopped,  they  looked  about 
them  from  side  to  side,  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that 
they  imagined  they  were  on  the  wrong  road.  Then 
they  walked  forward  a  bit,  stopped  again,  and 
finally  came  towards  the  house  on  a  run. 

I  advanced  to  meet  them. 

"  Good  morning,  sisters,"  said  I.  The  two  were 
so  much  astonished  that  they  did  not  return  my 
greeting,  and  for  a  few  moments  scarcely  noticed 
me.     Then  Sylvia  turned. 

"How  in  the  world,"  she  exclaimed,  "did  all 
this  happen  ?     It  must  be  the  same  house." 

I  smiled.  "  It  is  very  simple,"  said  I ;  "  this  " 
—  and  as  I  spoke  I  waved  my  hand  towards  the 
cottage  —  "  is  an  instance  of  the  way  in  which 


326  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

the  brothers  of  the  House  of  Martha  intend  to 
work." 

"And  you  did  this?"  exclaimed  Sylvia,  with 
radiant  eyes. 

I  explained  to  the  eagerly  listening  sisters  how 
the  transformation  had  been  accomplished,  and 
with  a  sort  of  reverent  curiosity  they  approached 
the  house.  Sister  Agatha's  astonishment  was 
even  greater  than  that  of  Sylvia,  for  she  had  long 
known  the  wretched  place. 

"  It  is  a  veritable  miracle,"  she  said,  "  see  this 
beautiful  white  fence,  and  the  gate ;  it  opens  on 
hinges ! " 

"  Be  careful,"  said  I,  as  they  entered  the  little 
yard,  "  some  of  the  paint  may  yet  be  wet,  although 
I  told  them  to  put  as  much  drying  stuff  in  as  was 
possible." 

"  Actually,"  cried  Sylvia,  "  a  gravel  walk  up  to 
the  house !  " 

"  And  the  outside  a  daffodil  yellow,  with  fern 
green  blinds  !  "  said  Sister  Agatha. 

"  And  the  eaves  tipped  with  geranium  red !  " 
cried  Sylvia. 

"  And  a  real  tree  on  each  side  of  the  front  door, 
and  new  steps !  "  exclaimed  Sister  Agatha. 

When  they  entered  the  house  the  amazement 
and  delight  of  the  two  sisters  was  a  joy  to  my 
soul.  They  cried  out  at  the  carpet  on  the  floor, 
the  paper  on  the  walls,  the  tables,  the  chairs,  the 
bureau,  the  looking-glass,  the  three  framed  litho- 
graphs on  the  wall,  the  clock,  and  the  shining  new 
bedstead  on  which  their  patient  lay. 


I  GET  INTO  HOT  WATER,  327 

*'  If  Mother  Anastasia  could  but  see  this,"  cried 
Sylvia,  "  she  would  believe  in  the  brotherhood." 

"He  sez  yer  angels,"  said  the  woman  of  the 
house,  coming  forward,  "  that's  what  he  sez ;  an' 
he 's  roight  too,  for  with  thim  Pepper  Pod  Plasters, 
an'  the  smell  of  paint  in  the  house  which  he  hates, 
he  '11  be  out  o'  doors  in  two  days,  or  I  'm  much 
mishtaken." 

Sylvia  and  I  now  approached  the  old  man  to  see 
what  he  thought  about  it.  He  was  very  grateful, 
and  said  nothing  about  the  smell  of  paint,  but  we 
found  him  with  a  burning  desire  in  his  heart  which 
had  been  fanned  into  flames  by  the  arrival  of  the 
groceries  on  the  day  before.  He  eagerly  asked  us 
if  we  could  make  coffee ;  when  he  was  well  he 
could  make  it  himself,  but  since  he  had  been  lying 
on  that  bed,  he  had  not  tasted  a  drop  of  the  be- 
loved liquid.  His  wife  did  not  drink  it,  and  could 
not  make  it,  but  as  we  could  speak  French,  and 
had  sent  coffee,  he  felt  sure  that  we  could  compound 
the  beverage,  so  dear  to  the  French  heart. 

"  The  angels  make  coffee,"  he  said,  in  his  best 
patois,  "  otherwise  what  would  Heaven  be  ?  " 

Both  of  the  angels  declared  that  the  good  man 
should  have  some  coffee  without  delay,  but  Sylvia 
said  to  me,  that  although  she  had  not  the  least 
idea  how  to  make  it,  she  was  quite  sure  Sister 
Agatha  could  do  it.  But  that  sister,  when  asked, 
declared  that  she  knew  nothing  about  coffee,  and 
did  not  approve  of  it  for  sick  people,  but  if  the 
man  did  not  like  the  tea  his  wife  made,  she  would 
try  what  she  could  do. 


828  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

But  this  offer  was  declined.  The  old  man  must 
have  his  coffee,  and  as  there  was  no  one  else  to 
make  it,  I  undertook  to  do  it  myself.  I  thought 
I  remembered  how  coffee  had  been  made,  when 
I  had  been  camping  out,  and  I  went  promptly 
to  work.  Everybody  helped.  The  old  woman 
ground  the  berries.  Sister  Agatha  stirred  up  the 
fire,  and  Sylvia  broke  two  eggs,  in  order  to  get 
shells  enough  to  clear  the  liquid. 

It  was  a  good  while  before  the  coffee  was  ready, 
but  at  last  it  was  made,  and  Sylvia  carried  it  to 
our  patient  in  a  great  bowl.  She  sat  down  on  one 
side  of  the  bed  to  administer  the  smoking  beverage 
with  a  spoon,  while  I  sat  on  the  other  side  and 
raised  the  old  man's  head  that  he  might  drink  the 
better.  After  swallowing  the  first  tablespoonful, 
the  patient  winked. 

"  I  hope  it  did  not  scald  his  throat,"  said  Sylvia, 
"  Do  you  know  what  '  scald  '  is  in  French  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  remember,"  said  I,  "  you  had  better 
let  the  next  spoonful  cool  a  little,"  —  but  the  pa- 
tient opened  his  mouth  for  more. 

"  C^est  potage,''^  he  said,  "  mais  il  est  hon,^^ 

"  I  am  sorry  I  made  soup  of  it,"  I  said  to  Sylvia, 
"  but  I  am  sure  it  tastes  like  coffee." 

We  continued  to  feed  the  old  man,  who  ab- 
sorbed the  new-fangled  broth  as  fast  as  it  was 
given  to  him,  until  a  voice  behind  me  made  u& 
both  jump. 

"  Sister  Hagar,"  said  the  voice,  "  what  does  this 
mean?" 

"  Goodness,  Mother  Anastasia,"  cried  Sylvia, 
"  you  made  me  scald  the  outside  of  his  throat." 


I  GET  INTO  HOT  WATEB.  329 

At  the  foot  of  the  bed  stood  Mother  Anastasia 
clad  in  her  severest  gray,  her  brows  knit  and  her 
lips  close  pressed. 

"  Sister  Hagar,"  she  repeated,  "  what  is  all 
this?" 

I  let  down  the  old  man's  head,  and  Sylvia,  pla- 
cing the  almost  empty  bowl  upon  the  table,  replied 
serenely :  — 

"  Mr.  Vanderley  is  making  a  beginning  in  bro- 
therhood work  —  the  brotherhood  of  the  House  of 
Martha,  you  know.  I  think  it  would  work  splen- 
didly. Just  look  around  and  see  what  he  has 
done.  He  has  made  this  charming  cottage  out  of 
an  old  rattle-trap  house.  Everything  you  see  in 
one  afternoon,  and  lots  of  provisions  in  the  kitchen 
ibesides.  Sisters  alone  could  never  have  done 
this." 

Mother  Anastasia  turned  to  me. 

"  I  will  speak  with  you,  outside,"  she  said,  and 
I  followed  her  into  the  little  yard.  As  soon  as 
we  were  far  enough  from  the  house  to  speak  with- 
out being  overheard,  she  stopped,  and  turning  to 
me,  said :  — 

"  You  are  not  content  with  driving  me  from  the 
life  on  which  I  had  set  my  heart,  back  into  this 
mistaken  vocation,  but  you  are  determined  to  make 
my  lot  miserable  and  unhappy.  And  not  mine 
only,  but  that  of  that  simple-hearted  and  unsus- 
pecting girl.  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  be  so  self- 
ishly cruel.  You  are  resolved  to  break  her  heart, 
and  to  do  it  in  the  most  torturing  way.  But  you 
shall  work  her  no  more  harm.     I  do  not  now  ap- 


830  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

peal  to  your  honor,  to  your  sense  of  justice ;  I  sim- 
ply say  that  I  shall  henceforth  stand  between  you 
and  her.  What  misery  may  come  to  her  and  to 
me  from  what  you  have  already  done  I  do  not 
know,  but  you  do  no  more." 

I  stood  and  listened  with  the  blood  boiling  with- 
in me. 

"  Marcia  Eaynor,"  I  said —  "  for  I  shall  not  call 
you  by  that  title  which  you  put  on  and  take  off  as 
you  please  —  I  here  declare  to  you  that  I  shall 
never  give  up  Sylvia.  If  I  never  speak  to  her 
again  or  see  her  I  shall  not  give  her  up.  I  make 
no  answer  to  what  you  have  charged  me  with,  but 
I  say  to  you  that  as  Sylvia's  life  and  my  life  can- 
not be  one  as  I  would  have  it,  I  shall  live  the  life 
that  she  lives,  even  though  our  lives  be  ever  apart. 
For  the  love  I  bear  her,  I  shall  always  do  the  work 
that  she  does.  But  I  believe  that  the  time  will 
come  when  people,  wiser  than  you  are,  will  see 
that  what  I  proposed  to  do  is  a  good  thing  to  do, 
and  the  time  will  come  when  a  man  and  a  woman 
can  labor  side  by  side  in  good  works,  and  both  do 
better  work  because  they  work  together.  And  to 
Sylvia  and  to  my  plan  of  brotherhood,  I  shall 
ever  be  constant.     Remember  that." 

Without  a  word  or  change  in  her  expression 
she  left  me,  went  into  the  house,  and  closed  the 
door  behind  her.  I  did  not  wish  to  make  a  scene, 
which  would  give  rise  to  injurious  gossip,  and 
therefore  walked  away,  though  as  I  did  so  I  turned 
to  look  in  at  the  open  window,  but  I  did  not  see 
Sylvia;  I  only  saw  th6  bandaged  face  of   Sister 


I  GET  INTO  HOT  WATEB.  331 

Agatha  looking  out   at  me,  more  mournful  than 
before. 

As  I  rapidly  walked  homeward,  I  said  to  my- 
self, "  Now  I  declare  myself  a  full  brother  of  the 
House  of  Martha.  I  shall  take  up  their  cause, 
and  steadfastly  work  for  it  whether  they  like  it  or 
not" 


XLVI. 

GOING  BACK  FOR  A  FRIEND. 

When  I  reached  home,  I  looked  up  my  grand- 
mother and  told  her  everything  that  had  happened. 
My  excitement  was  so  great  that  it  was  necessary 
I  should  talk  to  some  one,  and  I  felt  a  pang  of  re- 
gret when  I  remembered  that  latterly  I  had  given 
no  confidences  to  her. 

My  grandmother  listened  eagerly  and  without 
interrupting  me,  but  as  I  spoke  she  shook  her  head 
again  and  again,  and  when  I  had  finished,  she 
said :  — 

"  My  dear  boy,  if  you  understood  the  world  and 
the  people  in  it  as  well  as  I  do,  you  would  know 
that  that  sort  of  thing  could  never,  never  work. 
Before  long  you  and  Sylvia  would  be  madly  in 
love  with  each  other,  and  then  what  would  happen 
nobody  knows.  It  may  be  that  Mother  Anastasia 
has  not  fully  done  her  duty  in  this  case,  or  it 
may  be  that  she  has  done  too  much,  and  other  peo- 
ple may  have  acted  improperly  and  without  due 
thought  and  caution ;  but  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is 
plain  enough  to  see  that  your  poor  heart  has  been 
dreadfully  wrung.  I  wish  I  had  known  before  of 
this  brotherhood  notion,  and  of  what  you  intended 
to  do,  and  I  would  have  told  you,  as  I  tell  you  now, 


GOING  BACK  FOE  A  FRIEND.  333 

that  in  this  world  we  must  accept  situations.  That 
is  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  get  along  at  all. 
Sylvia  Raynor  has  gone,  soul  and  body,  into  this 
Martha  House,  which  is  the  same  as  a  convent, 
and  to  all  intents  and  purposes  she  is  the  same  as 
a  nun.  Now  there  is  no  use  fighting  against  that 
sort  of  thing.  Even  if  she  should  consent  to  climb 
over  the  wall,  and  run  away  with  you,  I  do  not 
believe  you  would  like  a  wife  who  would  do  that, 
after  all  she  had  vowed  and  given  her  solemn 
word  to." 

"  My  dear  grandmother,"  I  said,  "  all  that  you 
say  may  be  true,  but  it  makes  no  difference  to  me  ; 
I  shall  always  be  faithful  to  Sylvia." 

"  Perhaps  so,  perhaps  so,"  said  my  grandmother, 
*'  but  you  must  remember  this  :  it  may  be  all  very 
well  to  be  faithful,  but  you  should  be  careful  how 
you  do  it.  In  some  respects  Mother  Anastasia  is 
entirely  right,  and  your  faithfulness,  if  injudi- 
ciously shown,  may  make  miserable  the  life  of  this 
young  woman."  I  sighed  but  said  nothing.  My 
grandmother  looked  pityingly  upon  me. 

"  I  think  you  can  do  nothing  better  than  to  go 
and  travel  as  you  have  proposed.  Stay  away  for 
a  year.  Dear  knows,  I  do  not  want  to  keep  you 
from  me  for  all  that  time,  but  the  absence  will  be 
for  your  good.  It  will  influence  your  life.  When 
you  come  back,  then  you  will  know  yourself  better 
than  you  can  possibly  know  yourself  now.  Then 
you  will  be  able  to  see  what  you  truly  ought  to  do, 
and  I  promise  you  that  if  I  am  alive  I  wiU  help 
you  do  it." 


334  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

I  took  the  dear  old  lady  in  my  arms,  and  her 
advice  to  my  heart.  I  acknowledged  to  myself 
that  at  this  conjuncture  the  wisest  thing,  the  kind- 
est thing  was  to  go  away.  I  might  not  stay  away 
for  a  year,  but  I  would  go. 

"  Grandmother,"  I  said,  "  I  will  do  what  you  ad- 
vise. But  I  have  something  to  ask  of  you :  I  have 
vowed  that  I  will  be  a  brother  of  the  House  of 
Martha,  and  that  I  wiU  do  its  work,  with  or  with- 
out the  consent  of  the  sisters,  and  with  or  without 
their  companionship.  Now  if  I  go,  will  you  be  my 
substitute?  Will  you,  as  far  as  you  can,  assist 
the  sisters  in  their  undertakings,  and  do  what  you 
think  I  would  have  done,  had  I  been  here?  " 

"  I  cannot  change  a  dilapidated  hut  into  a 
charming  cottage  in  one  afternoon,"  she  said,  pla- 
cing both  hands  on  my  shoulders  as  she  spoke,  "  but 
I  will  do  all  that  I  can,  and  all  that  you  ought  to 
do,  if  you  were  here.     That  much  I  promise." 

"  Then  I  wiU  go,"  I  said,  "  with  a  heavy  heart, 
but  with  an  easier  conscience." 

Walkirk  entirely  approved  of  an  immediate 
start  upon  the  journey  which  I  had  before  pro- 
posed. I  think  he  feared  that  if  it  was  postponed 
any  longer,  I  might  get  some  other  idea  into  my 
head  which  would  work  better  than  the  brother- 
hood scheme,  and  that  our  travels  might  be  post- 
poned indefinitely. 

But  there  was  a  great  deal  to  be  done  before  I 
could  leave  home  for  a  lengthy  absence,  and  a 
week  was  occupied  in  arranging  my  business  af- 
fairs, and  planning  for  the  comfort  and  pleasure  of 


GOING  BACK  FOB  A  FRIENB.  335 

my  grandmother  while  I  should  be  away.  Wal- 
kirk  engaged  the  stenographer,  and  was  the  great- 
est possible  help  to  me  in  every  way,  but  notwith- 
standing his  efforts  to  relieve  me  of  work  that  was 
a  busier  week  for  me  than  any  week  in  my  whole 
life.  This  was  an  advantage  to  me,  for  it  kept  me 
from  thinking  too  much  of  the  reason  for  my  hur- 
ried journey. 

At  last  the  day  arrived  on  which  the  steamer 
was  to  sail,  and  the  generally  cool  Walkirk  actu- 
ally grew  nervous  in  his  efforts  to  get  me  ready  to 
start  by  the  early  morning  train  for  the  city.  In 
these  efforts  I  did  not  assist  him  in  the  least.  Ii^ 
fact  had  he  not  been  with  me  I  think  that  I  should 
not  have  tried  to  leave  home  in  time  to  catch  the 
steamer.  The  more  I  thought  of  catching  the 
steamer,  the  less  I  cared  to  do  so ;  the  more  I 
thought  of  leaving  home,  the  less  I  cared  to  do  so. 
It  was  not  that  I  was  going  away  from  Sylvia  that 
made  me  thus  reluctant  to  start.  It  was  because  I 
was  going  away  without  taking  leave  of  her,  — 
without  a  word  or  even  a  sign  from  her.  I  ground 
my  teeth  as  I  thought  of  how  I  had  lost  the  only 
chance  I  had  had  of  bidding  her  farewell,  and  of 
assuring  her  that,  no  matter  what  happened,  I 
would  be  constant  to  her  and  to  the  principles  in 
which  we  had  both  come  to  believe.  I  had  been 
too  much  excited  on  the  morning  I  had  left  her  in 
the  Frenchman's  cottage  to  think  that  that  would 
be  my  last  chance  of  seeing  her ;  that  thereafter 
Mother  Anastasia  would  never  cease  to  guard  her 
from  my  speech  or  sight.    I  should  have  rushed  in, 


836  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

caring  for  nothing.  People  might  have  talked,  but 
Sylvia  would  have  known  that  prohibitions  and 
separations  would  make  no  difference  in  my  feeling 
for  her. 

And  now  I  was  going  away  without  a  word  or  a 
sign,  or  even  the  slightest  trifle  which  I  could 
cherish  as  a  memento  of  her.  There  was  a  blank- 
ness  about  it  all  which  deadened  my  soul. 

But  Walkirk  was  inexorable.  He  made  every 
arrangement,  and  even  superintended  my  farewell 
to  my  grandmother,  and  gently  but  firmly  inter- 
rupted me,  as  I  repeated  my  entreaties  that  she 
would  speedily  find  out  something  about  Sylvia, 
and  write  to  me.  At  last  we  were  in  the  carriage, 
with  time  enough  to  reach  the  station,  and  Wal- 
kirk wiped  his  brow,  as  would  a  man  who  had  had 
a  heavy  load  lifted  from  his  mind. 

We  had  not  gone  a  quarter  of  the  distance  when 
the  thought  suddenly  struck  me,  Why  should  I  go 
away  without  a  memento  of  Sylvia?  Why  had 
I  not  remembered  my  friend  Vespa,  the  wasp, 
whose  flight  around  my  secretary's  room  had  made 
the  first  break  in  the  restrictions  which  surrounded 
her  ;  had  first  shown  me  a  Sylvia  in  place  of  a  gray- 
bonneted  nun  ?  That  dead  wasp,  pinned  to  a  card 
on  the  wall  of  my  study,  was  the  only  thing  I  pos- 
sessed in  which  Sylvia  had  a  share.  I  must  go 
back  and  get  it ;  I  must  take  it  with  me. 

When  I  shouted  to  the  coachman  to  turn,  that 
I  must  go  back  to  get  something  I  had  forgotten, 
Walkirk  was  thrown  into  a  fever  of  anxiety.  If 
we  did   not  catch   this  train   we  would   lose   the 


GOING  BACK  FOB  A  FBIEND.  337 

steamer ;  the  next  train  would  be  three  hours  later. 
But  his  protestations  had  no  effect  upon  me.  I 
must  have  Sylvia's  wasp,  no  matter  what  happened. 

Back  to  the  house  we  dashed,  and  up-stairs  I 
ran.  I  took  down  the  card  to  which  the  wasp  was 
affixed,  I  found  a  little  box  in  which  to  put  it,  and 
while  I  was  looking  for  a  rubber  band  by  which  to 
secure  the  lid,  a  servant  came  hurriedly  into  the 
room  with  a  telegram  for  me.  I  tore  it  open.  It 
was  from  Miss  Laniston  and  read  thus  :  — 

"  Come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can.  Important 
business." 

"  Important  business  !  "  I  ejaculated.  "  She 
can  have  no  business  with  me  that  does  not  concern 
Sylvia.  I  will  go  to  her  instantly."  In  a  few  sec- 
onds I  was  in  the  carriage,  shouting  to  the  man  to 
drive  as  fast  as  he  could. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Walkirk,  "  you  cannot  go 
too  fast." 

I  handed  my  companion  the  telegram.  He  read 
it  blankly. 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  he  said,  "  if  the  business  is  im- 
portant. All  that  can  be  done  now  is  to  telegraph 
to  her  that  she  must  write  to  you  in  London  by  the 
next  steamer." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  I,  "  I  am 
going  to  her  the  instant  we  reach  New  York." 

Walkirk  clenched  his  hands  together,  and  looked 
{iway.     He  had  no  words  for  this  situation. 

My  temper  was  very  different. 

"  What  a  wonderful  piece  of  luck !  "  I  exclaimed. 
^  If  we  had  kept  on  to  the  station,  by  this  short 


838  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

cut,  the  telegraph  boy,  who  of  course  came  by  the 
main  road,  would  have  missed  me,  and  there  would 
not  have  been  time  for  him  to  get  back  to  the  sta- 
tion before  the  train  started.  How  fortunate  it 
was  that  I  went  back  for  that  wasp." 

"  Wasp !  "  almost  screamed  Walkirk,  and  by  the 
way  he  looked  at  me,  I  know  he  imagined  that  I 
was  temporarily  insane. 

We  caught  the  train,  and  on  the  way  I  explained 
my  allusion  to  the  wasp  so  far  as  to  assure  Wal- 
kirk that  I  was*  no  more  crazy  than  men  badly 
crossed  in  love  are  apt  to  be. 

"  But  are  you  really  going  to  Miss  Laniston  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  drive  up  there,  give  her  fif- 
teen minutes  with  five  as  a  margin,  and  reach  the 
steamer  in  time.  You  can  go  directly  to  the  dock, 
and  attend  to  the  baggage  and  everything." 

My  under-study  sighed,  but  he  knew  it  was  of 
no  use  to  make  any  objections.  He  did  not  fail, 
however,  to  endeavor  to  impress  upon  me  the  im- 
portance of  consulting  my  watch  while  listening  to 
Miss  Laniston's  communication. 

My  plan  was  carried  out ;  we  separated  as  soon 
as  we  reached  the  city,  and  in  a  cab  I  rattled  to 
JMiss  Laniston's  house. 


XLvn. 

I  INTEREST  MISS   LANISTON. 

When  I  reached  Miss  Laniston's  house  that 
lady  was  at  breakfast,  but  she  did  not  keep  me 
waiting  long. 

"  Truly,"  she  said,  as  she  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  "  you  are  the  most  expeditious  person  I  ever 
knew.  I  knew  that  you  would  come  to  me,  but  I 
did  not  suppose  you  would  even  start  as  soon  as 
this." 

"I  had  already  started  when  I  received  your 
telegram,"  I  said. 

"  To  come  here  ?  " 

"  No,  to  sail  for  Europe.*' 

"  Well,  well !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  from  this  mo- 
ment I  shall  respect  my  instincts,  a  thing  I  never 
did  before.  When  I  woke  this  morning  my  first 
thought  was  of  the  message  I  intended  to  send  to 
you,  and  I  intended  to  attend  to  it  immediately 
after  breakfast ;  but  my  hitherto  unappreciated  in- 
stincts hinted  to  me  that  no  time  should  be  lost, 
and  I  called  my  maid,  and  dispatched  the  telegram 
immediately.  Moral :  Do  aU  the  good  you  can 
before  you  get  up  in  the  morning.  Why  are  you 
starting  for  Europe  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  time  to  tell  you,"  I  said,  "  in  fact, 


340  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

I  can  only  remain  a  few  minutes  longer,  or  I  shall 
lose  the  steamer.     Please  tell  me  your  business." 

"  Is  Sylvia  the  cause  of  your  going  away  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  said  ;  "  is  she  the  reason  of  your  wish- 
ing to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,"  she  answered ;  "  when  does 
your  steamer  start  ?  " 

"  By  ten  o'clock,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  bless  me,"  she  remarked,  glancing  at  the 
clock,  "  you  havie  quite  time  enough  to  hear  all  I 
have  to  say,  and  then  if  you  do  not  catch  the 
steamer  it  is  your  own  fault.     Sit  down,  I  pray 

you." 

Very  reluctantly  I  took  a  seat,  for  at  last  the 
spirit  of  Walkirk  had  infected  me. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  will  cut  my  story  as  short 
as  possible,  but  you  really  ought  to  hear  it  before 
you  start.  I  made  a  visit  to  Arden,  on  the  day 
after  you  performed  the  grand  transformation 
scene  in  your  brotherhood  extravaganza.  I  should 
have  been  greatly  amused  by  what  was  told  me 
of  this  prank,  if  I  had  not  seen  that  it  had  caused 
so  much  trouble.  Sylvia  was  in  a  wretched  way, 
and  in  an  extremely  bad  temper.  Marcia  was  al- 
most as  miserable,  for  she  was  acting  the  part  of 
an  extinguisher  not  only  to  Sylvia's  hopes  and  as- 
pirations, but  to  her  own.  So  far  as  I  could  see 
there  was  no  way  out  of  the  doleful  dumps  in  which 
you  seemed  to  have  plunged  yourself  and  all  par- 
ties concerned,  but  I  set  to  work  to  try  what  I 
could  do  to  straighten  out  matters ;  my  principal 


I  INTEREST  MISS  LANISTON.  341 

object  being,  I  candidly  admit,  to  enable  Marcia 
Raynor  to  feel  free  to  give  up  her  position  of  watch- 
dog, and  go  to  her  National  College,  on  which  her 
soul  is  set.  But  to  accomplish  this,  I  must  first 
do  something  with  Sylvia  ;  but  that  girl  has  a  con- 
science like  a  fence  post,  and  a  disposition  like  a 
squirrel  that  skips  along  the  rails.  I  could  do 
nothing  with  her.  She  had  sworn  to  be  a  Sister 
of  Martha  for  life,  and  yet  she  would  not  consent 
to  act  like  an  out  and  out  sister,  and  give  up  all 
that  stuff  about  typewriting  for  you,  and  the  other 
nonsensical  notions  of  co-Marthaism,  with  which 
you  infected  her.  She  stoutly  stuck  to  it,  in  spite 
of  all  the  arguments  I  could  use,  that  there  was  no 
good  reason  why  you  and  she,  as  well  as  the  other 
sisters  and  some  other  gentlemen,  could  not  work 
together  in  the  noble  cause  of  I  don't  remember 
what  fol-de-rol.  Pretty  co-Marthas  you  and  she 
would  make ! 

"  Then  I  tried  to  induce  Marcia  to  give  up  her 
fancies  of  responsibilities  and  all  that,  and  to  leave 
the  girl  in  the  charge  of  the  present  Mother  Inferior, 
an  elderly  woman  called  Sister  Sarah,  who  in  my 
opinion  could  be  quite  as  much  of  a  griffin  as  the 
case  demanded.  But  she  would  not  listen  to  me. 
She  had  been  the  cause  of  her  cousin's  joining  the 
sisterhood,  and  now  she  would  not  desert  her,  and 
she  said  a  lot  about  the  case  requiring  not  only 
vigilance,  but  kindness  and  counsel,  and  that  sort 
of  thing.  Then  I  went  back  to  the  city,  and  tried 
my  hand  on  Sylvia's  mother,  but  with  no  success 
at  all.     She  is  like  a  stone  gate-post,  and  always 


342  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

was,  and  declared  that  as  Sylvia  had  entered  the 
institution  because  Marcia  was  there,  it  was  the 
latter's  duty  to  give  up  everything  else,  and  to 
throw  herself  between  Sylvia  and  your  mischievous 
machinations  and  to  stay  there  until  you  were 
married  to  somebody,  and  the  danger  was  past." 

"  Machinations  !  "  I  ejaculated,  —  "a  most  un- 
reasonable person." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Miss  Laniston,  "  but  not  a 
bit  more  than  the  rest  of  you.  You  are  the  most 
unreasonable  Ibt  I  ever  met  with.  Having  failed 
utterly  with  the  three  women,  I  had  some  idea  of 
sending  for  you,  and  of  trying  to  persuade  you  to 
marry  some  one  who  is  not  under  the  sisterhood's 
restrictions,  and  so  smooth  out  this  wretched  tan- 
gle, but  I  knew  that  you  were  more  obstinate  and 
stiff-necked  than  any  of  them,  and  so  concluded  to 
save  myself  the  trouble  of  reasoning  with  you." 

"  A  wise  decision,"  I  remarked. 

"  But  I  could  not  give  up,"  she  continued ;  "  1 
could  not  bear  the  thought  that  my  friend  Marcia 
Raynor  should  sacrifice  herself  in  this  way.  I 
went  back  to  Arden  in  the  hope  that  something 
might  suggest  itself ;  that  a  gleam  of  sense  might 
be  shown  by  the  one  or  the  other  of  the  lunatics 
in  gray  for  whose  good  I  was  racking  my  brains. 
But  I  found  things  worse  than  I  had  left  them. 
Sylvia  had  stirred  herself  into  a  spirit  of  combat- 
iveness  of  which  no  one  would  have  supposed  her 
capable,  and  had  actually  endeavored  to  brow- 
beat her  Mother  Superior  into  the  belief  that  a 
Brotherhood  Annex  was  not  only  necessary  to  the 


I  INTEREST  MISS  LANISTON.  343 

prosperity  and  success  of  the  House  of  Martha, 
but  that  it  was  absolutely  wicked  not  to  have  it. 
She  had  gone  on  in  this  strain  until  Marcia  had 
become  angry,  and  then  there  had  been  a  scene 
and  tears,  and  much  subsequent  misery. 

"  I  talked  first  with  one  doleful  sister,  and  then 
with  the  other,  with  the  only  result  that  I  became 
nearly  as  doleful  as  they.  In  my  despair  I  went 
to  Marcia,  and  urged  her  to  acknowledge  herself 
vanquished,  to  give  up  this  contest,  which  would 
be  her  ruin,  to  show  herself  a  true  woman,  and  to 
take  up  the  true  work  of  her  life.  '  Oh,  I  could  n't 
do  it,'  she  said,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  were  going 
to  cry,  a  most  unusual  thing  with  her ;  '  if  I  went 
away,  to-morrow  they  would  be  together,  making 
mud-pies  for  the  children  of  the  poor.'  I  sprang 
to  my  feet.  '  Marcia  Raynor,'  I  cried,  '  you  made 
this  House  of  Martha.  You  are  the  head  and  the 
front,  the  top  and  the  bottom  of  it.  You  are  its 
founder  and  its  autocrat,  it  lives  on  your  money,  — 
for  everybody  knows  that  what  these  sisters  make 
would  n't  buy  their  pillboxes,  —  and  now,  having 
run  it  all  these  years,  and  having  brought  yourself 
and  Sylvia  to  the  greatest  grief  by  it,  it  is  your 
duty  to  put  an  end  to  it,  to  abolish  it.' 

"  'Abolish  the  House  of  Martha? '  she  cried,  with 
her  great  eyes  blazing  at  me. 

"  '  Yes,'  I  said,  '  abolish  it,  destroy  it,  annihilate 
it,  declare  it  null,  void,  dead  and  gone,  utterly 
extinguished,  and  out  of  existence.  You  can  do 
this,  and  you  ought  to  do  this.  It  is  your  only 
way  out  of  the  dreadful  situation  in  which  you 


344  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

have  got  yourself  and  Sylvia.  Let  the  other  sisters 
go  to  some  other  institutions,  or  wherever  they  like. 
You  and  Sylvia  will  be  free,  that  is  the  great 
point.  Now  do  not  hesitate.  Stop  supplies,  dis- 
solve the  organization,  break  up  the  House  of 
Martha,  and  do  it  instantly.' 

"  She  made  one  step  towards  me  and  seized  me 
by  the  wrist.  '  Janet,'  she  said,  '  I  will  do  it.' 
And  she  did  it  that  day.  At  present  there  is  no 
House  of  Martha." 

I  sat  and  gazed  at  Miss  Laniston  without  com- 
prehending what  I  had  heard. 

"  No  House  of  Martha !  "  I  ejaculated. 

"That  is  precisely  the  state  of  the  case,"  she 
answered;  "the  establishment  was  dissolved  at 
noon  yesterday.  As  I  had  had  all  the  trouble  of 
bringing  this  thing  about,  I  considered  that  I  had 
a  right  to  tell  you  of  it  myself.  I  thought  it 
would  interest  me  to  see  how  you  took  it." 

I  rose  to  my  feet ;  I  stepped  towards  her. 

"  No  House  of  Martha,"  I  gasped,  —  "  and  Syl- 
via?" 

"  Sylvia  wiU  go  home  to  her  mother,  so  she  told 
me  yesterday.  I  was  present  at  the  dissolution. 
I  think  she  will  probably  come  to  the  city  this  af- 
ternoon." 

I  snatched  up  my  hat.  "  I  must  go  to  her  in- 
stantly," I  said.  "  I  must  see  her  before  she  reaches 
her  mother.     I  have  lost  time  already." 

"  Upon  my  word  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Laniston, 
"  your  way  of  taking  it  is  indeed  interesting.  Not 
a  word  of  thanks,  not  a  sign  of  recognition  "  — 


I  INTEREST  MISS  LANISTON.  345 

I  had  nearly  reached  the  door,  but  now  rushed 
back  and  seized  her  by  the  hand.  "  Excuse  me," 
I  said,  "  but  you  can  see  for  yourself  "  —  and  with 
one  violent  shake  I  dropped  her  hand,  and  hurried 
away. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  cried,  "  I  can  easily  see  for  my- 
self," and  as  I  left  the  house  I  heard  her  hearty 
laugh. 

I  sprang  into  my  cab,  ordering  the  man  to  drive 
fast  for  the  railroad  station.  It  mattered  not  to 
me  whether  Walkirk  went  to  Europe  or  not.  All 
I  cared  for  was  to  catch  the  next  train  which 
would  take  me  to  Arden. 


XLVIII. 

IN   A    COLD,    BARE   ROOM. 

When  I  reached  Arden  I  took  one  of  the  mel- 
ancholy vehicles  which  stand  at  our  station,  and 
very  much  astonished  the  driver  by  ordering  him 
to  take  me,  not  to  my  own  home,  but  to  the  House 
of  Martha. 

"  You  know  they  're  busted  up,  sir,"  said  the 
man,  turning  to  me,  as  his  old  horse  hurried  us 
along  at  the  best  of  his  speed. 

"  But  the  sisters  have  not  left  ? "  I  eagerly 
asked. 

"  Not  all,"  he  said,  "  but  two  or  three  of  them 
went  down  this  morning." 

"  Drive  on  quicker,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  in  a 
hurry." 

The  man  gave  the  horse  a  crack  with  his  whip, 
which  made  no  difference  whatever  in  our  rate  of 
speed,  and  said  :  — 

"  If  you  've  got  a  bill  agin  any  of  them,  sir,  you 
need  n't  worry.  The  Mother  is  still  there,  and 
she  's  all  right,  you  know." 

"  Bill  ?     Nonsense !  "  said  I. 

"  I  'm  sorry  they  're  busted,"  said  the  man ; 
"  they  did  n't  do  much  hackin',  but  they  give  us  a 
lot  of  haulin'  from  the  station." 


IN  A  COLD,  BABE  ROOM,  347 

As  I  hurried  up  the  broad  path  which  led  to  the 
front  of  the  House  of  Martha,  I  found  the  door  of 
the  main  entrance  open,  something  I  had  never 
noticed  before,  although  I  had  often  passed  the 
house.  I  entered  unceremoniously,  and  saw  before 
me,  in  the  hallway,  a  woman  in  gray,  stooping  over 
a  trunk.  She  turned,  at  the  sound  of  my  footsteps 
on  the  bare  floor,  and  I  beheld  Sister  Sarah.  Her 
eyes  flashed  as  she  saw  me,  and  I  know  that  her 
first  impulse  was  to  order  me  out  of  the  house. 
This  of  course  she  now  had  no  right  to  do,  but 
there  were  private  rights  which  she  still  main- 
tained. 

"  I  should  think,"  she  said,  "  that  a  man  who 
has  done  all  the  mischief  that  you  have  done,  who 
has  worked  and  planned  and  plotted  and  contrived, 
until  he  has  undermined  and  utterly  ruined  the 
sisterhood  of  pious  women  who  ask  nothing  of  this 
world  but  to  be  let  alone  to  do  their  own  work  in 
their  own  way,  would  be  ashamed  to  put  his  nose 
into  this  house ;  but  I  suppose  a  man  who  would 
do  what  you  have  done  does  not  know  what  shame 
is.  Have  you  come  here  to  sneer  and  jibe  and 
scorn  and  mock,  and  gloat  over  the  misfortunes 
of  the  women  whose  home  you  have  broken  up, 
ruined,  and  devastated  ?  " 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  can  you  tell  me  where  I  can 
find  Miss  Sylvia  Kaynor?  " 

She  looked  as  if  she  were  about  to  spring  and 
bite. 

"  Atrocious !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  will  not  stay 
imder  the  same  roof,"  —  and  she  marched  out  of 
the  door. 


348  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

I  made  my  way  into  the  reception  room.  I  met 
no  one,  and  the  room  was  empty,  although  I  heard 
on  the  floor  above  the  sound  of  many  footsteps, 
apparently  those  of  the  sisters  preparing  for  de- 
parture. 

I  looked  around  for  a  bell,  or  some  means  of 
making  my  presence  known.  The  room  appeared 
harder,  barer,  emptier  than  when  I  had  seen  it  be- 
fore. In  a  moment  it  was  filled  with  all  the  light 
and  beauty  of  the  world.  A  door  opened,  and 
Sylvia  entered.  ♦ 

"I  saw  you  come,"  she  said,  advancing  with 
outstretched  hands,  "  and  hurried  down  as  soon  as 
I  could." 

She  was  in  her  gray  dress,  but  without  shawl  or 
head  covering.  Her  face  was  filled  with  the  most 
charming  welcome.  I  hastened  towards  her.  I 
did  not  take  her  hands,  but  opening  my  arms  I 
folded  her  in  them,  and  kissed  her  over  and  over 
again.  With  flushed  face  she  pushed  herself  a 
little  from  me. 

"  Is  n't  this  taking  a  great  deal  for  granted  ?  " 
she  said. 

"  Granted !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  think  of  what  has 
been  denied.     Think  of  the  weeks,  the  months  "  — 

"  We  would  a  great  deal  better  think  somebody 
may  come  in  here  and  see  us,"  said  Sylvia,  push- 
ing herself  still  farther  from  me. 

"  But  did  n't  you  expect  me  to  rush  to  you  the 
instant  I  heard  you  were  a  free  woman  ?  Did  you 
suppose  there  was  anything  to  be  taken  for  granted 
between  us  ?  " 


IN  A  COLD,  BARE  ROOM.  349 

"  Oh  no,"  she  said,  "  I  think  we  understood 
each  other  pretty  well,  but  then,  don't  you  see,  I 
didn't  suppose  it  would  be  like  this.  I  am  expect- 
ing a  trunk  from  New  York  every  minute,  and  I 
thought  when  it  came  I  should  be  dressed  like 
other  people.  Now  that  I  am  not  a  sister,  I  did 
not  want  you  to  see  me  in  these  dreary  clothes. 
Then  I  would  go  to  my  mother's  house,  and  I 
thought  you  would  call  on  me  there,  and  things 
would  go  on  more  regularly;  but  you  are  so  impet- 
uous." 

"  My  dearest  love,"  said  I,  "  it  fills  me  with  rap- 
ture to  take  you  in  my  arms  in  the  same  dress  you 
wore  when  I  fell  in  love  with  you.  Often  and  of- 
ten as  I  looked  at  you  through  that  grating  have  I 
thought  that  it  would  be  to  me  the  greatest  joy  on 
earth  if  I  could  take  you  in  my  arms  and  tell  you 
that  I  loved  you." 

"  You  thought  that !  "  exclaimed  Sylvia ;  "  it  was 
very  wrong  of  you." 

"  Right  or  wrong,  I  did  it,"  said  I,  "  and  now  I 
have  her,  my  dear  little  nun,  here  in  my  arms." 

She  ceased  to  push  and  looked  up  at  me  with  a 
merry  smile. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  "  the  morning 
the  wasp  came  near  stinging  me  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  I  said  vehemently. 

"  Well,  before  that  wasp  came,"  she  continued, 
"  I  used  to  be  a  good  deal  afraid  of  you.  I  thought 
you  were  very  learned  and  dignified,  but  after  I 
was  so  frightened,  and  you  saw  me  without  my 
bonnet,  and  all  that,  I  felt  we  were   very  much 


850  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

more  like  friends,  and  that  was  the  very  beginning 
of  my  liking  you." 

"  My  darling,"  I  exclaimed,  "  that  wasp  was  the 
best  friend  we  ever  had.  Do  you  want  to  see  it  ?  " 
and  releasing  her,  I  took  from  my  pocket  the  paste- 
board box  in  which  I  had  placed  our  friend  Vespa. 
As  she  looked  at  the  insect,  her  face  was  lighted 
with  joyous  surprise. 

"  And  that  is  the  same  wasp  ?  "  she  said,  "  and 
you  kept  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  sh^ll  always  keep  it,"  I  said,  "  even 
now  it  has  not  ceased  to  be  our  friend."  And  then 
I  told  her  how  my  desire  to  take  with  me  this  me- 
mento of  her  had  held  me  back  from  the  rolling 
Atlantic,  and  brought  me  to  her.  She  raised  her 
face  to  me  with  her  beautiful  eyes  in  a  mist  of  ten- 
derness, and  this  time  her  arms  were  extended. 

"  You  are  the  dearest  man,"  she  said. 

In  less  than  a  minute  after  she  had  spoken  these 
words.  Mother  Anastasia  entered  the  room.  She 
stood  for  a  moment  amazed,  and  then  she  hastily 
shut  the  door. 

"  Really,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  two  are  incom- 
prehensible beings.  Don't  you  know  that  people 
might  come  in  here  at  any  moment  ?  It  is  fortu- 
nate that  I  was  the  person  who  came  in  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

"  But  you  knew  he  was  here  ?  "  said  Sylvia. 

"  Yes.  I  knew  that,"  the  other  replied,  "  but  I 
expected  you  would  both  remember  that  at  present 
this  house  might  almost  be  considered  a  public* 
place." 


IN  A  COLD,  BABE  BOOM.  351 

"  My  dear  Marcia,"  said  Sylvia,  "  if  you  knew 
him  as  well  as  I  do,  you  would  know  that  he  would 
never  remember  anything  about  a  place." 

I  turned  to  the  ex-Mother  Superior,  who  had 
already  discarded  the  garb  of  the  sisterhood,  and 
was  dressed  in  a  dark  walking  suit. 

"  If  you  knew  me  as  well  as  I  know  myself,"  I 
said,  reaching  to  her  both  my  hands,  "  you  would 
know  that  my  gratitude  towards  you  is  deeper  than 
the  deepest  depths  of  the  earth."  She  took  one  of 
my  hands. 

"  If  you  have  anything  to  be  grateful  for,"  she 
said,  "  it  is  for  the  lectures  I  have  given  you,  and 
which,  I  am  afraid,  I  ought  to  continue  to  give 
you.  As  to  what  was  done  here  yesterday  I  con- 
sider myself  as  much  benefited  as  anybody,  and  I 
suppose  Sylvia  is  of  the  same  opinion  regarding 
herself.  But  there  is  one  person  to  whom  you 
truly  ought  to  be  grateful  —  Miss  Laniston." 

"  I  know  that,"  I  said.  "  I  have  seen  her  ;  she 
told  me  what  she  did,  and  I  treated  her  as  I  would 
treat  a  boy  who  had  brushed  my  coat,  but  I  shall 
make  amends." 

"  Indeed  you  shall,"  said  Sylvia,  "  and  I  will  go 
with  you  when  you  do  it." 

"But  you  must  not  set  yourself  aside  in  this 
way,"  said  I,  addressing  the  older  lady ;  "  it  was 
you  who  fanned  my  hopes  of  winning  Sylvia  when 
there  seemed  no  reason  why  they  should  not  fade 
away.  It  was  you  who  promised  to  help  me,  and 
who  did  help  me." 

"  Did  you  do  that,  Marcia  ?  "  asked  Sylvia. 


352  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

The  beautiful  woman  who  had  been  Mother 
Anastasia  flushed  a  little,  as  she  answered :  — 

"  Yes,  dear,  but  then  you  were  only  a  sister  on 
probation." 

"  And  you  wanted  me  to  marry  him  ?  " 

The  other  smiled  and  nodded,  and  in  the  next 
moment  Sylvia's  arms  were  about  her  neck,  and 
Sylvia's  lips  were  on  her  cheek. 

I  was  very  much  affected,  and  there  is  no  know- 
ing how  my  feelings  and  gratitude  might  have 
been  evinced,  had  not  the  clumping  of  a  trunk  upon 
the  stairs  and  the  voices  of  sisters  at  the  door 
called  me  to  order. 


XLIX. 

MY   OWN  WAY. 

When  I  went  home  to  my  grandmother,  she 
was  greatly  surprised  to  see  me,  and  I  lost  no  time 
in  explaining  my  unexpected  appearance. 

"  Keally,  really,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  was  just 
writing  you  a  letter,  which  I  intended  to  send  after 
you,  so  that  you  would  get  it  when  you  arrived  in 
London  ;  and  in  it  I  was  going  to  tell  you  all  about 
the  breaking  up  of  the  House  of  Martha,  of  which 
I  first  heard  half  an  hour  after  you  left  me.  I 
was  glad  you  had  not  known  of  it  before  you 
started,  for  I  thought  it  would  be  so  much  better 
for  all  the  changes  to  be  made  while  you  were 
away,  and  for  Sylvia  to  be  in  her  mother's  house, 
where  she  could  get  rid  of  her  nunnish  habits,  and 
have  some  proper  clothes  made  up.  Of  course  I 
knew  you  would  come  back  soon,  but  I  thought 
your  own  mind  would  be  in  much  better  order  for 
a  little  absence." 

"  My  dear  grandmother,"  I  cried,  "  in  mind  and 
body  I  am  in  perfect  order,  and  it  is  presence,  not 
absence,  which  made  me  so." 

"  Somehow  or  other,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  the 
fates  seem  to  help  you  to  have  your  own  way,  and 


354  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

I  am  sure  I  am  delighted  that  you  will  stay  at 
home.     And  what  has  become  of  Mr.  Walkirk  ?  " 

" Upon  my  word  I  "  I  exclaimed  —  "I  do  not 
know." 

Towards  evening  "Walkirk  returned,  looking 
tired  and  out  of  spirits.  I  truly  regretted  the 
carelessness  and  neglect  with  which  I  had  treated 
him,  and  explained  and  apologized  to  the  best  of 
my  ability.  He  was  a  good-natured  fellow,  and 
behaved  magnanimously. 

"  Things  have  turned  out  wonderfully  well,"  he 
said,  as  he  took  a  seat,  "  but  I  shall  be  more  de- 
lighted with  the  state  of  affairs  when  I  am  a  little 
less  fatigued.  Minor  annoyances  ought  not  to  be 
considered,  but  I  assure  you  I  have  had  a  pretty 
rough  time  of  it.  As  the  hour  for  sailing  drew 
near,  and  you  did  not  make  your  appearance,  I 
became  more  and  more  nervous  and  anxious.  I 
would  not  allow  our  baggage  to  be  put  on  board, 
for  I  knew  a  conference  with  a  lady  was  likely  to 
be  of  indefinite  duration,  and  when  at  last  the 
steamer  sailed,  I  went  immediately  to  Miss  Lanis- 
ton's  house  to  inform  you  of  the  fact,  and  to  find 
out  what  you  proposed  to  do ;  but  Miss  Laniston 
was  not  at  home,  and  the  servant  told  me  that  a 
gentleman  —  undoubtedly  you  —  had  left  the  house 
nearly  an  hour  before,  and  his  great  haste  made 
her  think  that  he  was  trying  to  catch  a  steamer. 

" '  People  would  not  hurry  like  that,'  she  said, 
'  to  catch  a  train,  for  there 's  always  another  one 
in  an  hour  or  two.' 

"  Then  I  began  to  fear  that  in  your  haste  you 


MT  OWN  WAT.  355 

had  gone  on  board  the  wrong  steamer  —  two 
others  sailed  to-day,  a  little  later  than  ours,  and 
I  went  to  their  piers  and  made  all  sorts  of  in- 
quiries, but  I  could  find  out  nothing.  Then  I 
went  to  your  club,  to  your  lawyer's  office,  and 
several  other  places  where  I  supposed  you  might 
go,  but  no  one  had  seen  or  heard  of  you.  Then  a 
fear  began  to  creep  over  me  that  you  had  had 
some  greatly  depressing  news  from  Miss  Lanis- 
ton,  and  that  you  had  made  away  with  yourself." 

"  Walkirk  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  how  dared  you 
think  that  ?  " 

"  Men  in  the  nervous  condition  I  was,"  he  an- 
swered, "  think  all  sorts  of  things,  and  that  is  one 
of  the  things  I  thought.  Finally  I  went  to  Miss 
Laniston's  house  again,  and  this  time  I  found  her, 
and  learned  what  had  happened.  Then  I  went  to 
the  pier,  ordered  the  trunk  sent  back  here,  for  I 
knew  there  was  no  question  now  of  the  trip  to 
Europe,  and  here  I  am." 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  whatever  pleasure  the 
turn  in  my  affairs  may  have  given  Walkirk,  he 
was  disappointed  at  losing  his  trip  to  Europe ;  but 
I  thought  it  well  not  to  reopen  his  wounds  by  any 
allusion  to  this  fact,  and  contented  myself  by  say- 
ing the  most  earnest  and  cordial  things  about  what 
he  had  done  and  suffered  for  me  that  day,  and 
inwardly  determining  that  I  would  make  full 
amends  to  him  for  his  lost  journey. 

In  about  ten  days  I  received  a  message  by  cable 
from  Liverpool,  which  was  sent  by  my  steno- 
grapher, informing  me  that  he  had  gone  aboard 


356  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

the  steamer,  as  per  agreement,  and  being  busy- 
writing  letters  to  send  back  by  the  pilot,  had  not 
discovered  that  Walkirk  and  I  were  not  on  board 
until  it  was  too  late.  The  message  was  a  long  one, 
and  its  cost,  as  well  as  that  of  the  one  by  which 
I  informed  the  stenographer  that  he  might  come 
home,  and  the  price  of  the  man's  passage  to  Liver- 
pool and  back,  besides  the  sum  I  was  obliged  to 
pay  him  for  his  lost  time,  might  all  have  been 
saved  to  me,  had  the  fellow  been  thoughtful  enough 
to  make  himself  sure  that  we  were  on  board  before 
he  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  off.  But  little 
rubs  of  this  kind  were  of  slight  moment  to  me  at 
that  time. 

On  the  day  after  things  had  been  taken  for 
granted  between  Sylvia  and  myself,  I  saw  her  at 
her  mother's  house,  and  I  must  admit  that  although 
it  had  given  me  such  exquisite  pleasure  to  feel 
that  she  was  mine  in  the  coarse  gray  gown  of 
a  "  sister,"  it  delighted  me  more  to  feel  she  was 
mine  in  the  ordinary  costume  of  society.  She  was 
as  gay  as  a  butterfly  ought  to  be  which  had  just 
cast  off  its  gray  wrappings  and  spread  its  wings 
to  the  coloring  light. 

I  found  Mrs.  Raynor  in  a  somewhat  perturbed 
state  of  mind. 

"  I  cannot  accommodate  myself,"  she  said,  "  to 
these  sudden  and  violent  mutations.  I  like  to  sit 
on  the  sands  and  stay  there  as  long  as  I  please, 
and  to  feel  that  I  know  how  high  each  breaker 
will  be,  and  how  far  the  tide  will  come  in,  but 
these   tidal  waves  which  make  beach  of   sea  and 


MY  OWN   WAY.  357 

sea  of  beach  sweep  me  away  utterly ;  I  cannot  com- 
prehend where  I  am.  A  week  ago  I  considered 
you  as  an  enemy  with  active  designs  on  the  peace 
of  my  daughter.  I  was  about  to  write  you  a  letter 
to  demand  that  you  should  cease  from  troubling 
her.  But  I  heard  you  were  going  to  Europe,  and 
then  I  felt  that  henceforth  our  paths  would  be 
smoother,  for  I  believed  that  absence  would  cure 
you  of  your  absurd  and  objectless  infatuation ;  but 
suddenly,  down  goes  the  House  of  Martha,  and  up 
comes  the  enemy,  transformed  into  a  suitor,  who  is 
loved  by  Sylvia,  and  against  whom  I  can  have  no 
possible  objection.  Now  can  not  you  see  for  your- 
self how  this  sort  of  thing  must  affect  a  mind  ac- 
customed to  a  certain  uniformity  of  emotion?  " 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  it  will  be  the  object  of  my 
life  to  make  you  so  happy  in  our  happiness  that 
you  shall  remember  this  recent  tumult  of  events  as 
something  more  gratifying  to  look  back  upon  than 
your  most  cherished  memories  of  tranquil  delight." 

"  You  seem  to  have  a  high  opinion  of  your  abil- 
ities," she  said,  smiling,  "  and  of  the  value  of  what 
you  offer  me.  I  am  perfectly  willing  that  you  try 
what  you  can  do ;  nevertheless  I  wish  you  had  gone 
to  Europe.  Everything  would  have  turned  out 
just  the  same,  and  the  affair  would  have  been 
more  seemly." 

"  Oh,  we  can  easily  make  that  all  right,"  said  I. 
"  Sylvia  and  I  will  go  to  Europe  on  our  bridal 
trip." 

As  I  finished  these  words  Sylvia  came  into  th<» 
room,  accompanied  by  Miss  Laniston. 


358  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Here  is  a  gentleman,"  said  my  dear  girl  to  her 
companion,  "  who  has  declared  his  desire  to  thank 
you  for  something  you  have  done  for  him,  and  he 
has  spoken  so  strongly  about  the  way  in  which  he 
intended  to  pour  out  his  gratitude,  that  I  want  to 
see  how  he  does  it." 

"  Mr.  Vanderley,"  said  Miss  Laniston,  "  I  forbid 
you  to  utter  one  word  of  that  outpouring,  which 
you  would  have  poured  out  yesterday  morning, 
had  it  not  been  so  urgently  necessary  to  catch  a 
train.  When  I  am  ready  for  the  effusion  referred 
to,  I  will  fix  a  time  for  it  and  let  you  know  the 
day  before,  and  I  will  take  care  that  no  one  shall 
be  present  at  it  but  ourselves." 

"  Any  way,"  said  Sylvia,  "  he  will  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"  If  he  does,"  said  Miss  Laniston,  "  you  will  re- 
enter a  convent." 


MY  BOOK   OF  TRAVEL. 

When  the  House  of  Martha  had  been  formally 
abolished,  the  members  of  the  sisterhood  made  va- 
rious dispositions  of  themselves.  Some  determined 
to  enter  institutions  of  a  similar  character,  while 
others  who  had  homes  planned  to  retire  to  them, 
with  the  intention  of  endeavoring  to  do  what  good 
they  could  without  separating  themselves  from  the 
world  in  which  they  were  to  do  it.  Sister  Sarah 
was  greatly  incensed  at  the  dissolution  of  the 
House,  and  much  more  so  because,  had  it  contin- 
ued, she  expected  to  be  at  the  head  of  it.  She  de- 
clared her  intention  of  throwing  herself  into  the 
arms  of  the  Mother  Church,  where  a  sisterhood 
meant  something,  and  where  such  nonsense  and 
treachery  as  this  would  be  impossible. 

I  did  not  enjoy  the  autumn  of  that  year  to  the 
extent  that  I  should  have  enjoyed  it  had  I  been 
able  to  arrange  matters  according  to  my  own  ideas 
of  what  was  appropriate  to  the  case. 

Sylvia  lived  in  the  city,  and  I  lived  in  the  coun- 
try, and  although  I  went  to  her  whenever  I  could, 
and  she  and  her  mother  dined  several  times  with 
my  grandmother,  there  were  often  long  stretches, 
sometimes  extending  over  the  greater  part  of  the 
day,  when  I  did  not  see  her  at  all. 


360  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

Thus  it  was  that  I  had  sometimes  to  think  of 
other  things,  and  one  morning  I  said  to  my  under- 
study, "  Walkirk,  there  is  something  I  regret  very 
much,  and  that  is  the  non-completion  of  my  book. 
I  shall  never  finish  it,  I  am  sure,  because  every 
thing  that  has  ever  happened  to  me  is  going  to  be 
made  uninteresting  and  tedious  by  what  is  to  hap- 
pen. Travel  and  life  itself  will  be  quite  another 
thing  to  me,  and  I  am  sure  that  I  will  be  satisfied 
with  enjoying  it,  and  shall  not  want  to  write  about 
it.     And  so,  good-by  to  the  book." 

"  In  regard  to  your  book,"  said  Walkirk,  "  I 
feel  it  my  duty  to  say  to  you  that  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  you  to  bid  good-by  to  it." 

"  You  are  wrong  there !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  shall 
never  write  it.     I  do  not  want  to  write  it." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Walkirk,  "  the  book  will 
be  written.  I  shall  write  it.  In  fact  I  have 
written  a  great  part  of  it  already." 

"  What  in  the  name  of  common  sense  do  you 
mean  ?  "  I  cried,  staring  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  What  I  am  going  to  say  to  you,"  replied  Wal- 
kirk, "may  displease  you,  but  I  earnestly  hope 
that  you  may  eventually  agree  with  me,  that  what 
I  have  done  is  for  the  general  good.  You  may  re- 
member that  when  you  first  talked  to  me  of  your 
travels,  you  also  handed  me  some  of  the  manu- 
script you  had  prepared  for  the  opening  chapters 
of  your  book  and  gave  me  an  outline  of  the  pro- 
jected plan  of  the  work.  Now  as  I  have  often  told 
you,  I  considered  the  material  for  a  book  of  travels 
contained  in  your  experiences,  as  recited  to  me,  af» 


MT  BOOK  OF  TRAVEL.  861 

extremely  fresh,  novel  and  entertaining,  and  would 
be  bound  to  make  what  publishers  call  a  '  hit '  if 
properly  presented,  but  at  the  same  time  I  am 
compelled  to  say  that  I  soon  became  convinced 
that  there  was  no  probability  that  you  would  prop- 
erly present  your  admirable  subject  matter  to  the 
reading  world." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  I,  "  this  is  cool." 

"It  is  hard  to  speak  to  you  in  this  way,"  he  an- 
swered, "  and  the  only  way  in  which  I  can  do  it  is 
to  be  perfectly  straightforward  and  honest  about 
it.  I  am  at  heart  a  literary  man,  and  have,  so 
far  as  I  have  the  power,  cultivated  the  art  of  put- 
ting things  effectively ;  and  I  assure  you,  sir,  that 
it  gave  me  actual  pain  when  I  found  how  you  were 
going  to  present  some  of  the  incidents  of  your 
journey,  such  as,  for  instance,  your  diving  experi- 
ences in  the  maelstrom,  or  at  least  in  the  place 
where  it  was  supposed  to  be,  and  where,  judging 
from  your  discoveries,  it  may  under  certain  condi- 
tions and  to  a  certain  extent  really  exist. 

"  There  were  a  good  many  other  points  which  I 
believe  could  be  made  of  startling  interest  and 
value,  not  only  to  ordinary  readers,  but  to  scientific 
people,  if  they  were  properly  brought  out.  I  saw 
no  reason  that  you  would  so  bring  them  out,  and  I 
felt  not  only  that  I  could  do  it,  but  that  it  would 
delight  me  to  do  it. 

"  My  feeling  on  the  subject  was  so  strong  that, 
as  you  may  remember,  I  declined  to  act  as  your 
secretary.  I  am  perhaps  over-sensitive,  but  I 
could  not  have  written  your  book  as   you  would 


362  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

have  dictated  it  to  me,  and  as  you  did  indeed  dic- 
tate it  to  your  various  secretaries." 

"  Go  on,"  I  said,  "  I  am  perfectly  charmed  with 
my  power  of  repressing  resentment." 

"  Therefore  it  was,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  set  to 
work  to  write  the  book  myself,  founding  it  entirely 
upon  your  daily  recitals.  My  plan  was  to  write 
as  long  as  I  found  you  were  in  the  humor  to  talk, 
and,  in  fact,  if  you  lost  interest  in  me  as  a  listener 
I  determined  that  I  would  then  declare  what  I  had 
done,  show  you  my  work,  and  implore  you,  if  you 
felt  like  it,  to  give  me  enough  subject  matter  to 
finish  it. 

"  I  have  now  stated  my  case,  and  I  place  it  en- 
tirely in  your  hands.  I  will  give  you  what  I  have 
written,  and  if  you  choose  to  read  it  and  do  not 
like  it,  you  can  throw  it  into  the  fire.  The  subject 
matter  is  yours,  and  I  have  no  rights  over  it.  But 
if  you  think  that  the  work  which  you  have  decided 
to  discontinue  can  be  successfully  carried  on  by 
me,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go  ahead  and  finish  it." 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  you  have  the  effrontery  of 
a  stone  sphinx  ;  but  let  me  see  your  manuscript." 

He  handed  it  to  me,  and  during  the  rest  of  the 
morning,  and  for  a  great  part  of  the  night,  after  I 
had  returned  in  a  late  train^  from  the  city,  I  read  it. 
The  next  day  I  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Walkirk,"  said  I,  "  as  my  under-study  go  ahead 
and  finish  this  book.  You  never  came  nearer  the 
truth  than  when  you  said  that  that  material  is 
vastly  interesting." 

Walkirk  was  delighted  and  took  up  the  work 


MY  BOOK  OF  TRAVEL.  363 

with  enthusiasm.  Whenever  I  had  a  chance  I 
talked  to  him,  and  whenever  he  had  a  chance  he 
wrote.  However,  at  that  time,  I  gave  so  much  o£ 
my  business  to  my  under-study  that  he  was  not 
able  to  devote  himself  to  his  literary  work  as  assid- 
uously as  he  and  I  would  have  desired.  In  fact, 
the  book  is  not  yet  finished,  but  when  it  appears  1 
think  it  will  be  a  success. 


hi 

A  LOOSE   END. 

I  WAS  now  a  very  happy  man,  but  T  was  not  an 
entirely  satisfied  one.  Looking  back  upon  what 
had  happened,  I  could  see  that  there  were  certain 
loose  ends,  which  ought  to  be  gathered  up  before 
they  were  broken  off  and  lost,  or  tangled  up  with 
something  to  which  they  did  not  belong. 

It  has  always  been  my  disposition  to  gather  up 
the  loose  ends,  to  draw  together  the  floating  strands 
of  circumstance,  tendency,  intention,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  so  that  I  may  see  what  they  are  and 
where  they  come  from.  I  like  to  know  how  I 
stand  in  relation  to  them,  and  how  they  may  affect 
me. 

One  of  the  present  loose  ends  was  brought  to 
my  mind  by  a  conversation  with  Sylvia.  I  had 
been  speaking  of  her  cousin  Marcia  Raynor,  and 
expressing  my  pleasure  that  she  was  about  to  enter 
a  new  life,  to  which  she  seemed  so  well  adapted. 

"  Marcia  is  a  fine  woman,"  she  said,  "  and  I  love 
her  ever  so  much,  but  you  know  she  has  caused 
me  a  great  deal  of  pain ;  that  she  has  actually  made 
me  cry  when  I  was  in  bed  at  night." 

I  assured  her  that  I  had  never  imagined  such  a 
thing  possible. 


A  LOOSE  END,  365 

"  Of  course,"  Sylvia  continued,  "  I  do  not  refer 
to  the  way  she  acted  just  before  the  House  of  Mar- 
tha was  broken  up.  Then  she  opposed  everything 
1  wanted  to  do,  and  would  listen  to  no  reason,  but 
I  would  n't  listen  to  her  reasons  either,  and  I  was 
entirely  too  angry  with  her  to  think  of  crying  on 
her  account.  It  was  before  that,  that  she  made 
my  very  heart  sick,  and  all  on  your  account." 

"  She  was  severe  upon  me,  I  suppose." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Sylvia,  "if  she  had  been 
severe,  I  should  not  have  minded  it  so  much,  but 
it  was  quite  the  other  way.  Now  just  put  yourself 
in  my  place  and  try  to  think  how  you  would  have 
felt  about  it.  Here  was  I,  fixed  and  settled  for  life 
in  the  House  of  Martha,  and  here  were  you,  per- 
fectly convinced  —  at  least  I  was  afraid  you  were 
convinced  —  that  there  was  nothing  for  you  to  do 
but  to  give  me  up,  and  here  was  Marcia,  just  about 
to  step  out  into  the  world  a  free  woman,  and  at  the 
same  time  taking  a  most  wonderful  interest  in  you, 
and  trying  to  make  you  understand  that  you  ought 
to  let  me  alone,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  In  which  she  did  not  succeed  at  all,"  I  said. 

"  So  it  appears,"  said  Sylvia,  "  but  I  could  n't 
be  sure  about  that  at  the  time,  you  know,  and  if 
she  had  succeeded  there  was  no  earthly  reason  why 
you  should  not  have  become  as  much  interested 
in  her  as  she  was  in  you,  and  then  —  but  it 's  too 
dreadful  to  talk  about ;  it  used  to  make  me  fairly 
boH." 

"  You  mean  to  say,"  said  I,  "  that  you  were  jeal- 
ous of  your  Cousin  Marcia." 


866  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  there  is  no  use  is  calling 
it  by  any  other  name ;  I  was  jealous,  savagely  so, 
sometimes." 

Now  this  was  a  very  high  compliment,  and  I 
did  not  fail  to  express  my  satisfaction  at  having 
been  the  subject  of  such  emotions.  But  one  of  the 
results  of  Sylvia's  communication  was  to  remind 
me  of  the  existence  of  a  loose  end.  I  had  never 
understood  Mother  Anastasia's  feelings  towards 
me.  It  had  been  very  interesting  to  me  to  make 
conjectures  about  those  feelings,  and  now  that  I 
could  safely  do  more  than  conjecture  I  wished  to 
do  more,  and  to  find  out,  if  possible,  if  there  had 
been  any  reasons  for  the  construction  I  had  placed 
upon  the  actions  of  the  beautiful  Mother  Superior. 
Of  course  this  was  of  no  real  importance  now,  but 
one  cannot  be  brought  into  relations  with  such  a 
woman  as  Marcia  Raynor  without  wanting  to  know 
exactly  what  those  relations  were. 

I  had  far  too  much  prudence,  however,  to  talk 
on  this  subject  with  Sylvia ;  if  I  talked  with  any 
one  I  must  do  it  very  cautiously.  One  morning  I 
called  upon  Miss  Laniston.  That  lady  was  in- 
formed on  a  great  many  points,  and,  moreover,  was 
exceedingly  free-spoken.  I  did  not  expect  any 
direct  information  from  her,  but  she  might  say 
something  from  which  I  might  make  inferences. 

She  thought  I  had  come  to  thank  her  for  what 
she  had  done  for  me,  but  I  assured  her  that  this 
ceremony  must  be  postponed  for  the  present,  for 
Sylvia  had  instructed  me  to  write  my  gratitude  in 
^  letter,  which  she  thought  would  be  a  much  pref- 


A  LOOSE  END.  367 

erable  method  than  for  me  to  pour  it  out  in  a  pri- 
vate interview. 

"  Your  Sylvia  seems  to  be  a  jealous  little  body," 
she  remarked. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  I,  "  although,  o£  course,  it  is  nat- 
ural enough  for  persons  in  our  state  of  mind  to 
have  tendencies  that  way.  By  the  way,  one  of 
these  tendencies  on  her  part  was  rather  odd.  Do 
you  know  that  at  one  time  she  was  almost  jealous 
of  her  cousin  Marcia,  at  that  time  a  gray-bonneted 
sister?  As  you  know  so  much  of  our  affairs  I  do 
not  think  I  am  going  too  far  in  telling  that." 

Miss  Laniston  seemed  to  be  considering  the  sub- 
ject. 

"  It  is  the  commonest  thing,"  she  said  presently, 
"  to  make  mistakes  about  matters  of  this  sort. 
Now,  for  instance,  I  once  put  some  questions  to 
you  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  there  might  be 
some  reason  for  Sylvia's  uneasiness.  Did  n't  you 
think  they  pointed  that  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  I  replied. 

"  And  have  you  ever  thought  of  it  since  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Occasionally.  Of  course  the  matter  is  of  no 
vital  interest  now.  But  at  the  time  you  spoke  of 
it,  I  could  not  help  wondering  if  I  had  said  or  done 
anything  during  my  rather  intimate  acquaintance 
with  Mother  Anastasia  which  would  give  you  good 
cau^e  to  put  the  questions  to  which  you  just  now 
alluded." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Laniston,  "  you  seemed  to 
me,  at  the  time,  to  be  in  a  decidedly  unbalanced 


368  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

state  of  mind,  but  I  think  I  acted  most  unwarrant- 
ably  in  speaking  of  Marcia  as  I  did.  In  fact,  I 
often  act  unwarrantably.  It  is  one  of  my  habits. 
And  to  prove  it  to  you,  I  am  going  to  act  unwar- 
rantably again.  Having  brought  the  elder  Miss 
Raynor  before  you  in  a  way  that  might  have  led 
you  to  have  undefined  ideas  about  her,  I  am  going 
to  bring  her  before  you  again  in  order  that  those 
ideas  may  be  exactly  defined.  It  is  all  wrong,  I 
know,  but  I  like  to  set  things  straight,  whether  I 
do  it  in  the  right  way  or  wrong  way." 

"  That  is  exactly  my  disposition,"  I  replied ;  "  I 
always  want  to  set  things  straight." 

She  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with  a  let- 
ter. 

"  When  I  decide  positively  to  do  a  thing,"  she 
said,  sitting  down  and  opening  the  letter,  "  I  think 
it  just  as  well  to  drop  apologies  and  excuses.  Yx)u 
and  I  have  decided  that  matters  ought  to  be  set 
straight,  and  so,  here  goes.  Marcia  has  just  writ- 
ten me  a  long  letter  in  which  she  says  a  good  deal 
about  you  and  Sylvia,  and  I  am  going  to  read  you 
a  part  of  it  which  I  think  will  straighten  out  some 
things  which  I  may  have  made  crooked,  in  my  ef- 
forts to  do  good  to  all  parties  concerned  —  a  dan- 
gerous business,  I  may  say. 

"  '  It  is  delightful  to  think,'  thus  Marcia  writes, 
— '  that  Sylvia's  life  is  at  last  settled  for  her,  and 
that,  too,  in  the  right  way.  Of  course,  neither 
you  nor  I  would  be  satisfied  with  a  match  like 
that ;  but  Sylvia  is  not  only  satisfied  with  Mr.  Van- 
ilerley,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  will  be  per- 


A  LOOSE  END.  369 

fectly  happy  with  him.  More  than  that,  I  believe 
she  will  supply  his  shortcomings,  and  strengthen 
his  weaknesses,  and  as  he  has  a  naturally  good 
disposition,  and  an  ample  fortune,  I  think  Sylvia 
is  to  be  sincerely  congratulated.  When  we  first 
spoke  of  this  matter  a  good  while  ago  I  thought 
that  if  the  Sylvia- Vanderley  affair  could  ever  be 
arranged,  it  would  be  a  good  thing,  and  I  have  not 
changed  my  opinion.'  The  rest  of  the  letter," 
said  Miss  Laniston,  folding  it  as  she  spoke, 
"chiefly  concerns  the  new  college,  and  I  do  not 
suppose  it  would  interest  you." 

I  agreed  with  her,  and   took  my  leave.     The 
loose  end  had  been  gathered  up. 


Ln. 

I  FINISH  THE  SICILIAN  LOVE-STORY. 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  my  little  ex- 
perience in  gathering  up  loose  ends  would  have 
deterred  me  from  further  efforts  in  this  direction, 
but  it  did  not. 

I  had  left  Miss  Laniston  without  asking  some 
questions  I  had  intended  to  put  to  her.  I  wished 
very  much  to  know  —  I  thought  it  was  my  right 
to  know  —  something  definite  about  the  Mr. 
Brownson  who  had  formerly  been  connected,  so  to 
speak,  with  the  Misses  Raynor.  I  hated  this  sub- 
ject as  I  hated  the  vilest  medicine,  but  I  felt  that 
I  must  get  the  matter  straightened  in  my  mind, 
yet  I  could  not  say  anything  to  Sylvia  about  it. 
And  after  what  Miss  Laniston  had  read  to  me  I 
could  not  ask  her  anything,  even  if  my  mind  had 
been  sufficiently  composed  to  formulate  questions. 
She  was  a  very  plain-spoken  person.  Too  much 
so,  perhaps. 

Walkirk  was  very  different ;  in  fact,  I  think  he 
^rred  on  the  other  side.  I  am  sure  that  he  would 
nave  liked  to  conceal  from  me  anything  that  would 
give  me  pain.  In  the  course  of  his  life  he  had 
met  a  great  many  people ;  he  might  know  some- 
thing about  Brownson,  Any  way,  I  would  throw 
out  some  feelers  in  that  direction. 


I  FINISH  THE  SICILIAN  LOVE-STORY.     371 

"  Yes,"  I  remarked  to  him,  in  the  course  of  a 
conversation  about  the  late  Mother  Superior, 
"  what  she  is  going  to  do  is  a  very  fine  thing,  — 
a  noble  enterprise,  and  she  is  just  the  sort  of  person 
to  go  into  it,  but  after  all  I  would  rather  see  her 
married  to  the  right  sort  of  man.  A  woman  like 
that  owes  it  to  society  to  be  married." 

"  I  fancy,"  said  Walkirk,  "  that  she  has  perma- 
nently left  the  marrying  class.  When  she  broke 
with  Brownson,  I  think  she  broke  with  marriage." 

"  What  were  the  points  of  that  ? "  I  asked. 
"Did  you  ever  happen  to  hear  anything  about 
him?" 

"  I  knew  him  very  well,"  answered  Walkirk. 
"  Those  were  his  prints  I  was  cataloguing  just  be- 
fore I  entered  your  service.  He  had  then  been 
dead  a  year  or  more,  and  I  was  working  for  the  es- 
tate." 

I  arose  and  went  to  the  window.  I  wiped  my 
forehead,  which  had  become  moist.  If  this  man 
had  known  Brownson,  why  should  he  not  know 
all  ?  Was  he  familiar  with  both  engagements  ? 
It  made  me  sick  to  think  of  it.  There  was  no 
sense  or  reason  in  such  emotion,  for  it  was  not 
likely  that  Sylvia's  engagement  had  been  a  secret 
one ;  but  I  had  a  proud  soul  and  could  not  bear  to 
think  that  people  about  me,  especially  Walkirk, 
should  be  aware  of  Sylvia's  attachment,  slight  as 
it  may  have  been,  to  another  than  myseK.  I  heart- 
ily wished  that  I  had  not  spoken  of  the  subject. 

Stm,  as  I  had  spoken  of  it,  I  might  as  well 
learn  all  that  I  could. 


372  THE  HOUSE  OF  MABTHA. 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  was  this  Brownson  ? "  I 
asked.  "  What  reason  was  there  that  Miss  Marcia 
Raynor  should  have  cared  for  him  ?  '^ 

"  He  was  a  fine  man,"  said  Walkirk.  "  He  was 
educated,  good-looking,  rich.  He  was  young 
enough,  but  had  been  a  bachelor  too  long,  per- 
haps, and  had  very  independent  ways.  It  was  on 
account  of  his  independence  of  thought,  especially 
on  religious  matters,  that  he  and  Miss  Marcia 
Raynor  had  their  difficulties,  which  ended  in  the 
breaking  of  the  engagement.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  she  was  a  good  deal  cut  up.  As  I  said  be- 
fore, I  do  not  think  that  she  will  consider  marriage 
again." 

I  took  in  a  full  breath  of  relief.  Here  Walkirk 
had  told  the  little  story  of  Brownson,  and  had  said 
nothing  of  any  subsequent  engagement.  Perhaps 
he  knew  of  none.  This  thought  was  truly  encour- 
aging. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  I  said,  "  she  may  know 
better  than  any  of  us  what  will  suit  her.  Any  way 
I  ought  to  be  satisfied ;  and  that  reminds  me,  Wal- 
kirk, that  I  have  never  expressed  to  you,  as  strongly 
as  I  wished  to  do  it,  my  appreciation  of  the  inter- 
est you  have  taken  in  my  varied  relations  with 
Miss  Sylvia  Raynor,  and  for  the  valuable  advice 
and  assistance  you  have  given  me  from  time  to 
time.  For  instance,  I  believe  that  your  reluctance 
to  have  me  go  away  from  Tangent  Island  was  due 
to  your  discovery  that  the  island  belonged  to  Syl- 
via's mother,  and,  therefore,  there  was  some  prob- 
ability that  she  might  come  there."" 


I  FINISH  THE  SICILIAN  LOVE-STORY.     373 

Walkirk  smiled.  "  You  have  hit  the  truth,"  he 
said. 

"I  have  sometimes  wondered,"  I  continued, 
"  why  a  man  should  take  so  much  interest  in  the 
love  affairs  of  another.  When  one  engages  an 
uader-study,  he  does  not  generally  expect  that 
sort  of  thing." 

"  Well,"  said  Walkirk,  "  when  a  man  engages 
as  an  under-study,  or  in  a  similar  capacity,  he 
often  performs  services,  without  regard  to  his  duty 
and  salary,  simply  because  they  interest  and  please 
him.  Now  it  struck  me  that  it  would  be  a  curious 
bit  of  romantic  realism  if  two  beautiful  women, 
who  on  account  of  one  man  had  become  nuns  in 
a  convent,  or  what  was  practically  the  same  thing, 
should  both  be  taken  out  of  that  convent  and 
brought  back  to  their  true  life  in  the  world  by  an- 
other man." 

"  Two  women  "  —  I  gasped. 

Walkirk  smiled,  and  his  voice  assumed  a  com- 
forting tone. 

"  Of  course  that  sort  of  thing  has  its  rough 
points  for  the  second  man,  but  in  this  case  I  do  not 
think  they  amount  to  much.  Brownson's  affair 
with  the  younger  lady  would  have  come  to  an  end 
as  soon  as  she  had  discovered  the  rocks  in  his 
character,  but  her  mother  broke  it  off  before  it 
came  to  that.  But  I  do  not  think  she  would  have 
gone  into  the  sisterhood,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
man's  death  very  soon  after  the  breaking  of  the 
engagement.  This  affected  her  very  much,  but 
there  was  no  reason  why  it  should,  for  he  was  killed 


874  THE  HOUSE  OF  MARTHA. 

in  a  railway  accident,  and  I  am  positively  certain 
that  lie  would  have  married  some  one  else  if  he 
had  lived  long  enough." 

I  had  nothing  to  say  to  all  this.  I  walked 
slowly  into  my  study  and  shut  the  door.  Surely 
I  had  had  enough  of  picking  up  loose  ends.  If 
there  were  any  more  of  them  I  would  let  them 
flap,  dangle,  float  in  the  air,  do  what  they  please ; 
I  would  not  touch  them. 

That  evening  I  spent  with  Sylvia.  In  the  course 
of  our  conversation  she  suddenly  remarked :  — 

"  Do  you  know  we  have  had  so  much  to  do  and 
so  much  to  talk  about,  and  so  much  to  think  about 
and  plan,  that  I  have  had  no  chance  to  ask  you 
some  questions  that  I  have  been  thinking  about. 
In  the  first  place  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about 
Mr.  Walkirk.  How  long  has  he  been  with  you  ? 
Are  you  always  going  to  keep  him  ?  What  does 
he  do  ?  What  was  his  business  before  he  came  to 
you  ?  Was  he  always  an  under-study  for  people  ? 
It  has  struck  me  that  that  would  be  such  an  odd 
occupation  for  a  man  to  have.  And  then  there  is 
another  thing,  —  a  mere  supposition  of  mine,  but 
still  something  that  I  have  had  a  sort  of  curiosity 
about :  supposing  that  the  House  of  Martha  had 
not  been  broken  up,  and  it  were  all  fixed  and  set- 
tled that  I  should  stay  there  always,  and  supposing 
cousin  Marcia  had  left  us,  and  had  gone  into  her 
college  work,  just  as  she  is  doing  now  —  do  you 
think  that  you  would  have  had  any  desire  to  study 
medicine  ? 


I  FINISH  THE  SICILIAN  LOVE-STOBY.     375 

"  And  then  there  is  another  thing  that  is  not  a 
question,  but  something  which  I  think  I  ought  to 
tell  you,  —  something  which  you  have  a  right  to 
know  before  we  are  married." 

"  Sylvia,"  said  I,  interrupting  her,  "  let  me  give 
you  a  little  piece  of  wisdom  from  my  own  experi- 
ence: The  gnawings  of  ungratified  curiosity  are 
often  very  irritating,  but  we  should  remember  that 
the  gnawings  of  gratified  curiosity  are  frequently 
mangling." 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  is  that  the  way  you 
look  at  it  ?  Well,  I  can  assure  you  that  what  I 
have  to  tell  is  of  no  importance  at  all,  but  if  you 
have  anything  to  say  that  is  mangling,  I  want  to 
hear  it  this  very  minute." 

"  My  dear  Sylvia,"  said  I,  "  we  have  had  so 
much  to  do  and  so  much  to  talk  about,  and  so 
much  to  think  about  and  plan,  that  I  have  had  no 
chance  to  finish  the  story  of  Tomaso  and  Lucilla." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  cried,  with  sparkling  eyes ; 
"  and  above  all  things  I  want  to  hear  the  end  of 
that  story." 

I  sat  by  her  on  the  sofa  and  finished  the  story 
of  the  Sicilian  lovers. 

"  In  some  ways,"  she  said,  "  it  is  very  much  like 
our  story,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Except,"  I  answered,  "  that  the  best  part  of 
ours  is  just  beginning." 


BOOKS  BY  FRANK  R.  STOCKTON 

Published  by  CHARLES  SCRIBWER'S  SONS 


"  Of  Mr.  Stockton's  stories  what  is  there  to  say  but  that  they  are  an 
unmixed  blessing  and  delight  ?  His  is  surely  one  of  the  most  inventive 
of  talents,  discovering  not  only  a  new  kind  of  humor  and  fancy,  but  accu- 
mulating an  inexhaustible  wealth  of  details  in  each  fresh  achievement,  the 
least  of  which  would  be  riches  from  another  hand." — W.   D.   Howblls. 

IN  UNIFORM  STYLE.     ILLUSTRATED  BY  A.  B.  FROST 

Pomona's  Travels 

A  SERIES  OF  LETTERS  TO  THE  MISTRESS  OF  RUDDER 
GRANGE  FROM  HER  FORMER  HANDMAIDEN.  FULLY 
ILLUSTRATED  BY  A.   B.   FROST.     12MO,  $1.50. 

"  It  forms  one  of  the  most  delightful  books  Mr.  Stockton  has  ever 
written.  It  is  capital  reading,  and  will  more  firmly  establish  Mr.  Stockton 
in  his  place  with  Bret  Harte  among  contemporary  American  writers.  Mr. 
Frost's  pictures  are  all  admirable." — New  Tork  Times. 

"  It  will  be  remembered  that  Pomona  married  a  certain  Jonas,  a  young 
man  of  eccentric  ways  and  dry  humor.  They  make  a  journey  abroad,  and 
their  experiences  are  as  enjoyable  as  those  of  the  days  at  Rudder  Grange. 
The  book  is  capitally  illustrated." — Boston  Transcript. 

Rudder  Grange 

WITH     OVER     100    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY    A.     B.    FROST. 
12MO,  ^1.50. 

**  It  is  possible  that  there  are  readers  and  buyers  of  books  who  have  yet 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  'Rudder  Grange.'  If  so,  it  is  hard  to  tell 
whether  they  are  objects  of  pity  or  envy — pity  for  having  lost  so  much  en- 
joyment, or  envy  for  the  pleasure  that  is  still  in  store  for  them." 

— Philadelphia  Times. 

"  Mr.  Frost's  suggestive  illustrations  add  greatly  to  the  attractiveness 
of  Mr.  Stockton's  famous  story.  He  has  caught  the  spirit  of  the  book, 
and  sketches  its  leading  characters  and  scenes  with  rare  humor." 

— London  Literary  World. 

*„*  The  above  tivo  books,  handsomely  bound  in  uniform  style^  with 
special  cover  designs  by  A.  B.  Frost,  gilt  top,  i2mo,  in  a  box,  $4.00. 


BOOKS    BY    FRANK    R.    STOCKTON 

^^"^^^^^^~"^"^^~~"        •— ^^^— •—■        -■^—^••^^^_^___  _^_^ 

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*'  It  is  delightfully  droll  from  beginning  to  end." 

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The  Watchmaker's  Wife  and  other 

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*'The  stories  are  characterized  by  the  oddity  and  drollery  which  dis- 
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— Charleston  Neivi  and  Courier. 

The  Late  Mrs.  Null.   i2mo,  $1.25. 

"  We  can  assure  prospective  readers  that  their  only  regret  after  finishing 
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it  for  the  first  time." — The  Critic. 

Rudder  Grange.    12M0,  jj5i.25. 

"  Humor  like  this  is  perennial." — Washington  Post. 

The  Rudder  Grangers  Abroad  and  other 

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*'  It  will  be  eagerly  sought  by  all  old  friends  of  Pomona  and  Jonas  and 
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*  Rudder  Grange.'  "—The  Outlook. 

The  Lady  or  the  Tiger  and  other  stories. 

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— Century  Magazine. 

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TALES.      12MO,  $1.25. 

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"  Delightfully  Stocktonian,  just  as  unique,  as  fresh,  as  original,  as  if 
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— Netv  Tork  Times. 

A  Story  Teller's   Pack,    illustrated, 

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"  His  gift  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  that  has  yet  appeared  in  our 
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— London  Speaker. 

Mrs.  Cliff's  Yacht,   illustrated,  i2mo,  $i.6o. 

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The  Novels  and  Stories  of 
Frank  R.  Stockton 

SHENANDOAH  EDITION 

"  Stockton's  "writings  ivill  outlive  a  thousand  laughs,  because  fun  is  only 
their  colore  and  not  their  substance.  Their  substance  is  human  nature  throivn 
into  relief  by  a  glass  ivhich  imparts  a  comical  hue.  His  humorous  -vieiv  is 
broad  and  not  epigrammatic,  though  ivit  lurks  in  the  felicity  of  his  t^*'se 
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BOOKS    BY    FRANK    R.    STOCKTON 

FANCIFUL  STORIES  FOR  YOUNGER  READERS 
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The  Clocks  of  Rondaine 

AND  OTHER  STORIES.  ILLUSTRATED,  SQUARE  8VO,  $1.50. 

Personally  Conducted 

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The  Story  of  Viteau 

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A  Jolly  Fellowship 

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The  Floating  Prince 

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Tales  Out  of  School 

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*'  Mr.  Stockton  tells  a  story  of  adv«»ture  not  only  with  a  peculiar  sim- 
plicity, seriousness,  and  veri-similitude  which  endears  him  to  all  young 
readers,  but  with  a  vein  of  humor  all  his  own,  which  no  boy  can  fail  to 
appreciate." — Neio  Tork  Tribune. 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'5    SONS,     NEW    YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


^   THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


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MAY  10  1019 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CAIvIFORNIA  IvIBRARY 


